Amaurosis
by Del Rion
Summary: The Avengers are about to swap defense for offense in the Alien-Human War, but will that be enough to win the day – and most of all, the entire war? While Tony still struggles to overcome his blindness and come up with a permanent solution, he and the team realize that one courageous act may well backfire as their enemy is more than capable of rising to the challenge. pr.:Typhlosis
1. Chapter 1: Liability - Asset

**Story Info**

 **Title:** Amaurosis

 **Author:** Del Rion

 **Fandom:** The Avengers  & Iron Man (MCU)

 **Genre:** Action, drama, sci-fi

 **Rating:** M / FRM

 **Characters:** Bruce Banner (Hulk), Clint Barton (Hawkeye), J.A.R.V.I.S., James "Rhodey" Rhodes (War Machine), Steve Rogers (Captain America), Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), Tony Stark (Iron Man), Thor, Sam Wilson (Falcon), Tony's bots (DUM-E  & U). _Appearances and mentions:_ Nick Fury, Pepper Potts.

 **Pairing:** Pepper/Tony (past, referenced)

 **Summary:** The Avengers are about to swap defense for offense in the Alien-Human War, but will that be enough to win the day – and most of all, the entire war? While Tony still struggles to overcome his blindness and come up with a permanent solution, he and the team realize that one courageous act may well backfire as their enemy is more than capable of rising to the challenge.  
Complete. Sequel to "Typhlosis".

 **Warnings:** Apocalyptic scenery (general destruction and death), referenced (past) character death, language, violence.

 **Disclaimer:** Iron Man, Avengers and Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Kenneth Branagh, Joe Johnston, Louis Leterrier, Alan Taylor, Anthony  & Joe Russo, Paramount Pictures, Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures and Universal Pictures. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.

 **Beta:** Mythra (mythras-fire)

* * *

 **About** ** _Amaurosis_** **:** A continuation to "Typhlosis", a story I couldn't leave alone despite how happy I was with its open ending. I hope this sequel manages to continue on the same note as its predecessor – and maybe bring something new to the table as well!

* * *

 **Chapters and statuses:** Below you see the writing process of the story's chapters. If there is no text after the chapter's title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.

 **Chapter 1: Liability / Asset**  
 **Chapter 2: Brimstone / Fire**  
 **Chapter 3: Burn / Crash**  
 **Chapter 4: Watch / Hide**  
 **Chapter 5: Error / Trial**  
 **Chapter 6: Lightning / Thunder**  
 **Chapter 7: Foe / Friend**  
 **Chapter 8: Destroy / Seek**  
 **Chapter 9: Mirrors / Smoke**  
 **Chapter 10: Conquer / Divide**

* * *

. . .

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Liability / Asset**

* * *

 **Day 183 of the Alien-Human War**

The taste of blood remained persistently on his tongue from his attempt to remove a distracting wetness pooling at the seam of his lips.

He detected the blow coming from the alien exo-suit – fallen yet still functioning – but could not move in time to avoid it; the blade-like extension of the battle armor's forearm hit him across the back, the impact snapping his head backwards.

As Mark 52 crumbled to the ground like a marionette cut free of its strings, its dead weight too much for him to hold upright, the HUD flickered and went dark. Seconds crawled by as the last remnants of light faded, begetting once more an old fear deep within his body: that all there would be, ever again, was the _darkness_.

"Breathe," Tony hissed, his own voice impossibly loud in his ears. "Fucking breathe…"

His chest filled the too-tight space as his lungs struggled to comply with the verbal command. Oxygen was such a precious commodity, without which life was largely impossible. Not just life, but calmness and functionality as well, and Tony was swiftly losing his grasp on both.

Air in his lungs meant oxygen in his bloodstream; the blood flowed through his veins, supplying his body with the means to keep functioning – including his brain, which was teetering dangerously on the edge of the precipice between the paralysis of shock and the rigid tension of an adrenaline rush.

He had to move, Tony knew that. Lying still, even if it was to get his bearings, was the same as signing his death warrant. Whether or not he was theoretically ready to go – to give up the fight – was insignificant; he had an obligation to stay alive, to keep on fighting until the war was over or he had spilled every ounce of his blood on the battlefield trying to uphold that outcome.

Tony Stark wasn't dead yet, and for all his moments of weakness, he refused to die face down in the dirt, entombed inside the wreckage of his suit.

Focusing on that thought with single-minded determination, Tony shifted and hissed as ragged edges of twisted, torn metal pressed into his skin. Knowing his choices were limited to just one, he continued to wriggle out of the husk of Mark 52, damaged joints giving in, entire sections falling off as his fingers struggled to pry the armor open manually.

It was not the first time he was fortunate to be knowledgeable about every single piece of the suit: in the dark, the armor's twisted figure was akin to bed sheets after a nightmare, unfamiliar in their shape, clinging to his body in ways they weren't supposed to. Piece by piece he figured it out, though, struggling to free himself, aware of the seconds ticking by, each of them threatening him with failure; he was defenseless in his unconventional prison, an easy target for anyone who had an interest in snuffing him.

He had damaged the alien's battle armor, but not enough to take it out, and all it needed to do was to crawl over to him and break him, bone by bone, if that was all it could do.

Tony had no intention of being pulverized to death, however.

With clenched teeth, mounting frustration, and fear hissed out in angry breaths, Tony continued to free himself from the armor, piece by piece. Occasionally, he had to abandon a spot in favor of another when the first would not yield results, but as air began to flow against his exposed skin where his clothes had torn, he knew he was getting closer to freedom.

Before he could get free, though, there was another obstacle looming before him: his bare hands, after removing his gauntlets to better feel his way around the damaged armor, were easily injured. Every new stab of pain took him by surprise as he could not see them coming, making him freeze up and hesitate. It would have easily seemed like not seeing the injury would be the preferred option, but it was not: the fear of the unknown and unseen was too instilled in his brain to be callously dismissed with pure strength of will, and it began to hinder his progress.

Pain had not deterred him before, though, and he refused to let it be his undoing. There was no indication that the others were coming for him, as they, too, had been heavily engaged in battle and protecting civilians. The suit's helmet blocked most of the sounds originating around him – which meant he could not hear the enemy, either.

Maybe the last blow from the alien had truly been its last, and he had managed to damage the exo-suit too thoroughly for it to continue fighting…

That little ray of hope did not mean he could take a break, though, or that he shouldn't be concerned, and he went back to extracting himself from the suit, grimacing against the pain in his hands as the fresh cuts burned. At least he could not see whether the slickness on his skin was blood or spilt oil – and whether it was sweat that ran down the back of his neck and the side of his nose, even though the coppery taste betrayed the origin of the latter…

Piece by piece he rid himself of the armor and finally sat up on the ground, fingers reaching to remove the helmet from around his skull. The pressure was released, making him feel like he had just exited a vacuum. Sounds came at him from all sides, much clearer than before, and the trickle of something warm down the back of his head became more noticeable.

Tony dropped the armor's helmet and reached for the helmet-shaped device still draped around the top half of his head. His fingers mapped it out, but he already knew something was wrong because the implants had stopped working. Although the more likely scenario was that the light helmet was too damaged to interact with the implants connected to his brain, thusly leaving him literally in the dark.

As his fingers searched for damage that was more than superficial – and which had probably contributed to the bleeding on his head, Tony unlocked the light helmet and pulled it off with a grimace, casting it aside with the rest of his armor. There was a momentary sense of relief as air flowed along his bare scalp, but it was soon followed by a shudder as whatever was bleeding became irritated by the faint breeze.

With his fingers injured, he could not actually determine how he had been hurt and where exactly he was bleeding. He didn't have time for that, either: he could still hear the battle, further off than he would have liked, but close enough to tell him that he could not sit there crying over a boo-boo and wait for someone to come and rescue him – especially when a mechanical screech reached his ears and he could envision the alien battle armor lifting itself to its feet behind him, joints creaking, damaged parts whining, but still operational enough to attack him.

Tony had never gotten to his feet so fast after losing his sight as when he heard the heavy weight of an armored foot land in the dirt, so close to him that he could feel the air move against his back. His heart beat madly as he stumbled to turn around, ears straining to make out the movements of the enemy, to anticipate what the alien would do. It was like a macabre re-enactment of the day when the aliens had attacked his house in Malibu, but back then he'd been able to see even though he'd been unarmed, and there had been three aliens in their exo-suits, not just one.

Without the implants or a functioning armor, one was more than enough to kill him, though.

Hell, he could trip over his own feet, break his neck and end up dead without any assistance at all.

With breaths shortened by distress and the knowledge that he needed to be quiet in order to hear even the tiniest hints of the enemy's approach, Tony shuffled his feet, knowing that he could not afford to lose his footing at this critical time.

It was easier said than done as the ground shook beneath him in the slow tempo of the approaching alien battle armor. Tony backed away, listening intently, not knowing if he was putting himself at a disadvantage; the last time he'd been able to see the battlefield, he had been more preoccupied with the fight and surviving the next blow than checking his surroundings. He regretted it now, but simultaneously thought that he would have remembered if there were structures nearby where he could seek shelter.

The alien drew closer, clunky and slow. Tony did not doubt it could move faster. Perhaps his enemy was playing with him, taunting its blind prey. It seemed more like a human thing to do instead of the methods their alien enemy normally employed.

That knowledge didn't make Tony feel any less like a rat being dangled by its tail, defenseless to do more than try and free itself, wriggling to fight or fly if a chance for either was presented. Sadly, he could do neither, which made him feel less like a rat and more like a worm being slowly worked into a hook.

The exo-suit moved again and Tony continued to back up, circling slightly, attempting to maintain his distance and not let the alien circle him. It did not truly matter whether he was shot or impaled from the front or behind, but as long as he could play at being a legitimate part of the fight…

Who was he kidding, though? He hadn't been a legitimate part of anything for 141 days, tagging along and pretending he could still do his part. However, if it weren't for the implants – which someone else had designed, constructed and surgically placed into his skull and brain – he wouldn't even be out here, bleeding and hurt. Realizing yet again that he could play at still being an Avenger, but without stepping up his game, he would never be able to truly carry that title with honor.

To do that, he needed to survive this, but if he could not see, he could not fight – and if he could not fight, he would most certainly die.

* * *

 **Day 176 of the Alien-Human War**

Mark 54, aka 'Hades', sent the latest batch of information as they prepared to land.

The alien camp was located in what used to be Crater Lake in Oregon: the deep blue water that the place had been renowned for was gone, leaving a deep pit in its place where a few platforms and peaks still marked the positions of Wizard Island, Merriam Cone and Phantom Ship. What had become of the famous log, Old Man of the Lake, was impossible to tell.

Much of the vegetation in the caldera's rim was gone, including the Crater Lake Lodge and Rim Village. Burnt structures stood as forlorn landmarks. It seemed like no one had been up there for a while – or if they had been, they were no doubt dead beneath the thick coating of snow.

In an attempt to mask their arrival, Clint set the Quinjet down in a place he deemed safe from the upcoming battle. As the engines quieted, no one spoke for a while; Steve was looking at the images Hades had sent them, trying to determine the best approach.

"We didn't count on this much snow," he stated at last.

"We can't sit here and wait for summer," Tony replied. The implants extended his vision beyond the hull of the aircraft, analyzing their surroundings, driving his stomach briefly towards nausea because apparently snow looked just as depthless to them as it did to human eyes. Focusing on objects closer to him, Tony drew his attention back to his team and switched to thermal vision.

Like always, Steve burned a bit hotter than anyone else, Thor coming a close second. Bruce was a different shade from them all, and Tony had to focus only a bit more to find the volatile gamma radiation in his blood, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

"Our main force won't be hindered by the snow, but the rest of us will have to reconsider how to approach the rim," Natasha stated, adjusting her uniform. Beside her, Clint nodded, also looking at the monitors.

"Rhodey and I will give you a lift," Tony offered. "Thor and the Hulk need to strike fast, but the two of us can take a few extra seconds to drop you off before we swoop in." He had looked at the images earlier and knew the score. "We can't let them get airborne. We pin them down in the caldera and we keep them there, or we lose the fight."

They didn't have enough firepower to win the battle if the alien ships got in the air. The Avengers were vastly outnumbered, but the odds would flip in their favor if they controlled the battlefield. That was the one condition they could not let slip through their fingers.

"You can't slow down for us," Steve said. It was hard to say what his expression was, the implants' read-outs limited when it came to expressions, but Tony knew the tone well enough to anticipate what would come next.

"We need every able man on deck for this," Tony snapped before their leader could go on. "You'll be slowed by the snow, tired out because you'll be forced to go on foot, and we need you out there. We have a plan," he reminded.

Steve turned to look at him. The words he was about to say had been heard quite a few times in the past few days – always aimed at Tony: "Why do you care about the plan so much all of a sudden?"

Tony frowned, although no one could see it while he wore the light helmet. Well, Rhodey could probably tell, considering the twitch of his nose and the purse of his lips. "You should be happy I want to play by the rules for once," he shrugged.

"Just give them the real reason," Bruce said, voice quiet as if he were already sinking into himself in order to let the beast out.

"You know the real reason?" Clint asked.

Bruce didn't reply, leaving it to Tony to explain.

"He's guessing, at best," Tony answered Clint's question. Bruce's heart beat a little faster, his body heat going up by a few degrees. "I helped devise this plan, thus I want everyone to stick to it," he stated. "Also, when people deviate from the plan… they end up dead," he finished.

"Except you," the archer challenged.

"Except me, but that's just because I'm so good at winging it," Tony offered them a fake grin.

"It's because of Yinsen," Rhodey said, totally unexpected because Tony had thought they were done talking about this.

"When did I tell you about Yinsen?" he asked as he whirled towards his best friend. Facing him was unnecessary with the view the implants gave him, but he was only human and some things were hard to unlearn. Plus, it creeped people out when he didn't turn towards them and still presented knowledge of what was happening behind him.

"You were drunk," Rhodey said, and that kind of answered the question about why Tony didn't remember the occasion. "He got killed because he didn't stick to the plan you had."

"He didn't deserve to go out like that," Tony muttered.

"We may all die today," Thor announced, "but we will make it a battle our enemies shall not forget."

Tony was quiet. The idea that this might be the last time they stood together like this… He knew the odds, and knew they were at war. It was amazing they had all come this far, mostly unscathed. So many had died around them, yet somehow the Avengers had made it. Perhaps their will to live was stronger than those who fell beside him, or perhaps it was luck.

Maybe their luck would end today, as they planned on changing the rules of engagement.

"The plan is as good as it's going to get," Clint decided after the silence started veering a bit towards the grim side. "It's a whole lot of ground to cover, though: the caldera isn't exactly small."

"Neither are the Category 5 ships, so if we pin them together, they won't have room to maneuver," Rhodey said.

"Let's get to it, then, before the aliens are done with their morning chores and disperse for the day," Steve ordered. "Give them no quarter."

Murmurs of acknowledgement met his words and everyone turned to put on the last pieces of their gear. Tony turned away from the subtle rise in tension and went to see the bots, who were hovering by the armors. "Alright, guys," he said softly, resting his hands on each of their arms. Even with the helmet on, they still moved into his touch, meeting him half-way. Tony wasn't sure what to say, suddenly. If the fight didn't go in their favor... "J.A.R.V.I.S. will look after you if worse comes to worst," he stated finally.

 _"Sir…"_ the AI argued softly through Mark 52's speakers.

"Don't disagree with me, J," Tony ordered.

The bots let out the faintest of sounds, rolling a few inches towards him. They had been through so much, and Tony did not want to think of the possibility that they might be alone in the world soon. How lost they would be…

"We'll come back," Bruce's voice came from behind him, and Tony started slightly, not having been paying attention to his surroundings outside the bots and the armor. "Steve won't lead us to our graves," the scientist added.

"He wants to finish this," Tony argued without turning to look at Bruce. The implants were widening his field of vision again, though, and he could see Bruce, standing a foot and a half behind him. "We all want to finish this," he added, words barely fighting their way out of his throat.

"We won't end the war with this fight, no matter whose way it goes," Bruce reminded him. "If we win, it will be a large step forward. If we have to make a tactical retreat…"

"You think the Hulk is capable of a tactical retreat?" Tony challenged as he turned around; conversing face-to-face felt so much more natural.

The bots moved, one of them pressing almost its entire arm against his backside while the other pushed forward and under his arm like a dog insistently looking to be petted. Tony's fingers closed around the claw as if he were holding onto a hand in order to comfort its owner.

Bruce sighed and shuffled forward, almost closing the distance between them. Sometimes the Avengers seemed to forget he could see his surroundings with the light helmet on and the implants activated, breaching his personal space. Even when they realized he didn't need assistance or guidance, they seemed to prefer to hover there, either to mask their error or just because it was still the norm more often than not because the implants literally hurt Tony's brain and he could not keep them working for too long.

"Don't worry," Tony tried to cheer Bruce up – even though their roles had been reversed just seconds ago. "If we retreat, I'm sure the big guy will follow our lead eventually." Of course, there was the state Tony called 'the rage', where the Hulk was exhausted, injured, and just kept beating at his opponents, sinking deeper and deeper into that place where normal people saw red. Whatever the Hulk saw…

"After battles like these, it sometimes feels impossible to become myself again," Bruce mused.

"The other guy does go at it pretty hard – but he also dishes it out with extra determination, and that's been our saving grace in many a fight," Tony reminded him. "I know it can't be pleasant, to climb out of that, but we need him more than we need any other member of this team – Thor included, no matter how much he likes to boast," Tony said and reached his free hand up to clasp Bruce's shoulder.

"Yet the aliens didn't try to kill me," Bruce said, rather unexpectedly, making Tony frown.

"Maybe they know you can't be killed."

"They should try, anyway," Bruce pressed. "The other guy can do much damage to them, and he won't stay down. I know he's… valuable to the war effort, and I'm willing to play my part, you know that. But it makes me – and many others, too – wonder why they picked you as a target."

"Maybe we all look alike to them and they mistook me for the other resident genius on the team," Tony teased, shifting his hand to pull at the lobe of Bruce's ear before sliding his hand along his neck, fingers encountering soft curls that didn't look nearly as inviting through what the implants showed him. He knew their touch against his fingers by heart, though, from the many nights spent curled next to Bruce, seeking comfort in the endless darkness and the dreams that were merely a suffocating extension of his blinded world… "If we ever devise a way to talk to the aliens, we'll ask. Until then, it doesn't matter," he decided with a note of finality.

Of course it did matter, and it was one of the questions that kept Tony awake at night. The attack on him had cost Pepper her life, and he could not let it be in vain. There had to be a reason for it; a real, profound, important reason that had nothing to do with chance or bad luck, or a randomly picked target.

His refusal to accept the possibility that Pepper may have been an accidental casualty of war kept him going, day after day, as he sought to understand the aliens' motivation to try and kill him. It plagued him worse than the question of why Extremis had not been able to fully heal the injuries, leaving him blind and defenseless. After all, there was obvious physical damage to his eyes and optic nerves, so the source of his blindness wasn't something like a psychosomatic blindness caused by a traumatic event. At least the latter would have explained why Extremis wasn't healing him…

Bruce hummed quietly, passively disagreeing with Tony's words. He knew, too, how it bothered Tony to _not know_ , and the way the team had gotten closer over the last several months, they all shared in Tony's frustration.

Rhodey walked over to them, taking his time so that Tony would notice. "All set?" he asked.

"I am," Tony replied, knowing better than to say Bruce was ready on the other man's behalf. Sometimes Bruce was already changing before anyone else was done gearing up. Other times he stumbled onto the battle field, still small and pink, and had to get shaken up in order to transform. Tony remembered one time when Bruce had actually gotten shot before the Hulk surfaced, and that had freaked Tony out a bit, fearing the beast was taking a day off or something. All those times had told him that Bruce would be ready when he was ready, and no sooner.

Bruce nodded, though, signaling that his initial hesitation would not stop him from being the leading force in their attack, and Tony let his thumb caress his scalp before he drew back his hand and turned towards his armor – only to realize the bots were in the way, still hovering.

"Come on, guys," Tony began to order them to move, but was swiftly met by sounds that could be described as little else than sobs, followed by two mechanical arms pressing at his chest and arms. Tony tried to huff but didn't quite managed it. "You're embarrassing me," he half-heartedly scolded the bots.

"I think they're scared," Rhodey mused.

"We're all a little scared," Tony grudgingly agreed. "But I built a pair of brave little bots who will be here waiting for me when I return, tired and battered," he added. "Got it?"

Dummy's answering bleep was far from encouraging, but both bots stopped making the pathetic sounds that pulled on Tony's heartstrings in all the wrong ways. They refused to move before Tony pushed them away, but didn't resist either, as if the fight had been drained out of them.

"Suit up," Steve called out – a hint for Tony and Rhodey to get ready since everyone else was pretty much done donning their uniforms and gear. Long gone were the days when they had worn actual uniforms, especially Cap, but they all carried the 'A' insignia of the Avengers sewn into their clothing – or in Tony and Rhodey's case, painted on their armors – whenever they could, for a sense of unity. Thor and the Hulk needed no such thing, of course, representing the team just fine without additional signs.

Tony looked at Mark 52, primed for battle and ready to take on the aliens like they had never fought before. A nod of his head was all it took for J.A.R.V.I.S. to begin opening the armor, and the implants delivered each burst of data, surge of electricity and flurry of motion to his brain, painting a picture that he had become familiar with since his new method of 'seeing' had been activated.

Since the first time, he had grown more accustomed to it and had more control over what he was seeing. Each time he noticed more details, discovering a layer of action and reaction he had not previously been able to perceive.

A learning process…

Once the armor was fully open, Tony moved past the bots and turned, stepping backwards into the snug suit that promptly began to close around him, surrounding him in a familiar cocoon. The implants adjusted to work in conjunction with the armor's HUD, the transition less jarring now that Tony was familiar with it. The sensation was much like adding an extension to himself which provided a more familiar outlook at his surroundings.

Beside him, War Machine was in the final stages of closing around Rhodey's body, and once all the pieces had locked into place, Rhodey rolled his shoulders as if feeling out any kinks that might hinder him in the upcoming battle.

"All set?" Tony asked.

 _"Yeah,"_ Rhodey replied. _"Let's go destroy some aliens."_

Tony turned his head, spotting Bruce. The man was slowly stripping off his clothes in order to change into a pair of pants that might not make it through the battle even though they were something Tony had been working on prior to the war, knowing Bruce usually suffered from a wardrobe malfunction after the Hulk had been up and about. The scientist seemed completely uninhibited to be undressing in a small space with six other people – he even glanced up at Tony as if noticing he was looking – but Tony supposed one couldn't be picky when they lived a life like Bruce Banner's, plus they had all seen a lot more of each other since the aliens arrived.

They had most certainly seen a lot more of Tony after he lost his ability to see…

Bruce pulled on the pants, adjusted the waistband, then shuddered a little, his first real indication of discomfort.

"Cold?" Clint guessed.

Bruce nodded and turned towards the hatch, a determined look on his face. The cold alone might prompt a transformation, and Tony knew they should speed things along before they had a Hulk inside the Quinjet – which would be an uncomfortably tight fit.

"Let's get to it," Tony called out and moved towards the hatch controls, punching a button to make it open. The HUD informed him of the drastic drop in external temperature, and Bruce shivered, then forced himself to step outside into the snow. He managed three steps in the drift disturbed by the Quinjet's landing before he stumbled forward as his right foot sank to the knee, upsetting his balance.

Tony witnessed the temperature change beneath his skin and the reaction that looked much like a molecular explosion as the Hulk surfaced, huffing so hard that he sent a cloud of fine snow into the air around his head.

"Hulk," Steve called out, walking out to the edge of the ramp, "we need your help today."

The Hulk wasn't exactly listening, getting a fistful of snow and giving it a dubious look. Tony could see his muscles contracting and subtle waves of heat leaving his body.

"We are about to attack an alien camp," Steve went on. "We were hoping you would be our leading force."

The Hulk huffed again and stood up – only to sink deeper in the snow. That made the rage monster twist and turn, kicking and punching at the snow as if he had found an enemy much closer than the nearby caldera.

"I'm not sure you're reaching him," Natasha mused as the other Avengers joined him on the ramp.

Tony took a breath and then carefully started up the thrusters, floating into the air and narrowly stopping his head from colliding with the Quinjet's ceiling. He made a careful circle around the Hulk, stopping when he was facing him, snow billowing around them. "Hey, big guy!" Tony called out.

The Hulk grunted and looked up at him.

"Feel like smashing some aliens?" Tony asked. It was hard to tell whether the responding expression on the Hulk's face was a sneer or a grin. Tony hoped for the latter. "There's no snow where they're hiding," he added in case that was an incentive. "They've also got several of those big-ass War Ships hanging around…"

The Hulk hated War Ships: the Category 5 ones were tough and had weapons that hurt even the green goliath. Anything that was capable of inflicting pain went instantly on the Hulk's long list of dislikes, and he would try to pulverize them with twice the determination for each hit they managed to land.

It didn't take long for the Hulk to make up his mind: he abandoned his beef with the snow and punched his left fist into his open palm in a clear gesture of impending violence.

Over the Hulk's shoulder, Cap gave Tony a thumbs-up, knowing he wouldn't be able to see smaller expressions.

"That way," Tony finally said, pointing towards the crater. "The rest of us will be right behind you."

The Hulk huffed, as if to imply he didn't need back-up, but there would be plenty of aliens for them all to smash.

Without further ado, the Hulk braced himself and jumped high into the air, clearly having decided he was not going to wade through the snow to get to the top.

"Thor," Steve called out, and with a nod of acknowledgment the Asgardian raised his magical hammer and shot into the sky, following the Hulk's progress.

Clint gave the snowy landscape an once-over. "What was the plan for us again?" he asked. "That snow might be deep enough to drown in, and we need to get uphill fast…"

Through the HUD, Tony could see the snow was deep enough to present a real problem. Their plan depended on the swiftness of the attack, and while Clint, Natasha and Steve were not a crucial part of their force, they had come this far for a reason – and that was not to cheer from the sidelines once they got there, hours after the fight had started.

Tony looked at Rhodey. "I'll take Cap," he volunteered. "You grab the Wonder Twins."

 _"Roger that,"_ Rhodey replied and moved towards Clint and Natasha.

"If you drop me, I'll scratch your paint," Clint threatened as he fastened his bow to his hip and moved to grab onto the armor.

"We could make it on foot," Steve said, more as a token protest than a real argument, seeing as he was already moving to secure his shield on his back. Tony hovered in front of him, relying on the boot and back thrusters to keep him steady as he gestured for Cap to hop on.

"Armored Delivery Service, lifting your expectations like no one has before," Tony quipped – then grunted as Steve leaped across the distance between him and the open hatch of the Quinjet, nearly upsetting Tony's precarious balance in the air.

"Less talking, more flying," Steve ordered, feet resting on top of Tony's boots, arms securing themselves on his shoulders and smartly keeping away from the thrusters and major flight stabilizers; the sheer amount of G-forces would keep him pinned into place, as long as his feet didn't slip.

"You asked for it," Tony cracked back, then rocketed them into the air, knowing that Rhodey would catch up once he got his own passengers secured.

The flight didn't take long; Tony knew they did not have time to take the scenic route, so he pushed for speed and kept their altitude low to avoid detection, making a bee line for the rim of the caldera. The speed and wind kept Steve quiet, his face shielded from the air, body bracing against the gravitational forces as Tony made a quick loop to land – a loop which would have made most people contemplate losing their breakfast.

As soon as Tony's boots hit the ground, Steve was moving away from him, releasing his shield and crouching low. Tony knew better than to stay and chat, trusting the man to handle himself as he engaged the thrusters, rising high to get a good look at the caldera while Rhodey landed next to Steve, dropping off Clint and Natasha.

 _"Ready?"_ Rhodey asked as he shot up to hover next to Tony.

Beneath them, the caldera spread out, ten miles of empty crater – empty save for over a dozen alien ships, ranging from War Ships to Troop Transfers, numerous battle armors, and clusters of Droids littering the caldera's walls like frozen ants.

Frozen until the first roar of the Hulk rent the air as he leaped down, and the flash of lightning striking down from the previously serene sky.

"Ready or not, this is our cue," Tony decided.

In unison, Iron Man and War Machine leaned forward and flew into the battle, weapons hot.

 _to be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Brimstone - Fire

**Chapter 2: Brimstone / Fire**

* * *

 **Day 183 of the Alien-Human War**

The ground vibrated with each heavy step of the alien exo-suit. That alone was not enough to tell Tony how far away it was, or if it was coming closer to him.

He hated being defenseless and at the mercy of his enemy's whims. There was nowhere for him to run as long as he could not see his surroundings, and staying put was just as dangerous as moving away.

The comm had gone silent while he was still trapped in the suit. With the damage he had sustained in the fight, Tony was willing to believe the connection had simply been broken instead of accepting a more gruesome possibility: that there was no one left to listen to the comm even if his had been operational.

Another footfall landed, clearly coming closer to him, and Tony moved to back away, feet shuffling, trying to predict the obstacles around him. His arms were spread out, feeling nothing but air, but it made him feel like he was doing all he could to map out his surroundings and prevent himself from running into anything.

"Come on," he muttered, his heart weary of beating so fast, the adrenaline spike already stretched out to what felt like maximum capacity. "Make your move," he taunted the alien. He feared what would happen next, but waiting for it was worse. Like a slow, torturous death instead of a clean, precise cut…

"Tony!"

His head shot up, neck aching. He knew the voice, but had no idea where exactly it was coming from.

"Duck!" came the next order, sharp and not to be mistaken for a request; Tony followed the command, throwing himself down, and instantly heard the gun mounted to the shoulder of Rhodey's suit go off, bullet after bullet hitting a target, bouncing off and grinding into alien metal in turns. Tony tried to listen, to track Rhodey's progress, but the sounds made his ears ring.

Suddenly, Rhodey stopped shooting. There were three viable options: either he was out of ammo, the weapon had become jammed, or the target was finally neutralized.

Tony raised his head, trying to figure out which of the three it was, then jerked as something closed around his shoulder, trying to yank him up.

"Are you hurt?" Rhodey asked, and the grip instantly became more recognizable in Tony's brain; armored fingers, human sized.

"Not too badly," Tony said, knowing that Rhodey could see him bleeding. "The suit's bust."

"Okay," his friend acknowledged, hastily pulling him to his feet, doing more harm than good as Tony attempted to find his footing and keep his balance. "You need to run," Rhodey added, words quick as if he were in a hurry. "Where's your helmet?"

"Broken," Tony explained succinctly.

"Fuck," Rhodey swore and spoke even faster: "The others are too far away, and I can't –"

There was a whine of metal and Rhodey's grip on him tightened and pulled. Tony let out a sharp yell as he was yanked to the side – only to be released an instant later, War Machine's touch vanishing and painfully sending him down to his knees.

Something scraped against the ground in front of him, the sound suggesting mechanical force, followed by the sound of grinding metal and something that was vaguely like a punch.

"Rhodey?!" Tony called out, not knowing what was happening.

"Run!" Rhodey shouted, voice strained. A repulsor fired, again and again, and Tony struggled back to his feet, his body starting to shake. He could tell Rhodey was fighting hard, but not in the air. The only explanation was that the alien armor wasn't done fighting, and Rhodey could not properly fight back while Tony was still there.

Tony tried to steady his breathing and calm down. He tried to recall the area, but in between flying, landing, shooting and flying again, then tangling with exo-suits… Honestly, he had no idea where he was, what was around him or where he might be able to find shelter. Rhodey was telling him to run, which was a reasonable request because Tony could easily get killed or knocked out standing next to two mechanical suits going at each other.

Slowly, he started to make his way away from what he hoped was the direction of the battle. His mind kept track of the weapons Rhodey was using, and the sounds of stress from his armor. He hadn't gone a dozen feet before he realized that Rhodey hadn't taken the battle to the next level because of his proximity, but because he could not: his armor was damaged, and Tony didn't need to see diagnostic reports to be able to guess how extensive some of it was.

He turned, facing towards the battle again, desperation coiling within him once more. If he ran, it would not make a difference. Rhodey would fight, and he might win – or he might lose, only because he had come to save Tony's sorry ass. Tony knew his friend and the commitment between them, and Rhodey was doing exactly what Tony would do, too, if their places were reversed: no matter the condition of his armor, he would step in to protect his teammate – his best friend.

Just like Rhodey, Tony would have told an unarmed man to run away from the fight, to save himself, but would Rhodey have run?

Of course, Rhodey was not blind, and he could actually _do something_ , while Tony's only contribution was to stand there and wring his hands, trying to wish away the damage from his eyes so that he could help in some small way.

A sudden, heavy thud made him start and take a hesitant step back; he tried to envision the alien battle armor falling down, but for some reason it sounded like the weight hitting the ground had been lighter and smaller – human-sized. His hearing strained to detect any sound from Rhodey, but as always, separating one thing from another in the midst of a battle was nigh on impossible without a visual aid.

It was like being frozen in place: no matter what happened, he could not stop it. He would stand there as his best friend died in front of him, just as he had stood there the day Pepper died, too slow to react, foolishly believing in their odds at not being noticed, trusting in the pattern their enemies had followed up until then.

The aliens had broken the pattern by attacking him, and there was nothing Tony would have liked more than to break the pattern himself, to shake himself free from the darkness and _avenge_ what he had lost.

A grinding sound, metal complaining, straining to keep its shape against an unyielding pressure. That was a familiar concept, a sound he had heard a thousand times since first crafting his armor: something strong trying to make the metal alloy yield in order to destroy the pilot inside.

Then, Rhodey's voice: "Tony…" It was broken and breathless, cracked even during the two syllables it took to utter his name – as if it physically hurt him to speak.

"Rhodey," Tony replied, stepping forward.

"Don't," Rhodey warned, and Tony could almost hear an unnatural wetness in his breaths.

 _If I can hear him breathe, the armor must be…_

His body shook as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through him. The knowledge that Rhodey's suit had to be broken filled him with sickening dread. Rhodey wasn't moving towards him, so he had to be caught inside it still, and somewhere in the vicinity the alien loomed, ready to finish them both.

Before, Tony had been somewhat willing to give up, but that was when only his own life had been on the line. Rhodey was out there, almost within his reach, and Tony had to find a way to protect him.

He had to find a way to fight.

A screech met his defiance, coming from the alien. Tony heard it step forward – heard Rhodey shouting at him to get away.

His heart was hammering in his chest, his senses screaming at him to run, but at the same time he felt frozen to the spot, unable to see or to run – unable to do anything but curl into himself like a frightened animal, hoping that the odds would be in his favor and he would go unnoticed.

He felt the air stir before something hard slammed into him, pummeling his upper body and slamming him down to the ground. Everything hurt for a moment, his tongue bleeding into his mouth, his skull aching, every heartbeat throbbing through him. Thudding steps came towards him, prompting him to roll and crawl away, bleeding hands trying to find something to grab onto.

Tony sensed the battle armor above him, like a shadow looming at his back. He envisioned a foot rising for a final attack, a kick or a stomp, to finish what they had started so long ago.

"Tony!" Rhodey roared, and something swished through the air, instantly followed by an explosion. Metal groaned and the raised foot landed so close to him that Tony could feel the air stir against his face.

The battle armor turned away from him, back towards Rhodey. Tony waited for another explosion or a blast from a repulsor, but there was nothing but the sounds of the exo-suit and his own breaths.

"No," he murmured, fingers curling into tight fists. The small wounds on his hands stung, reminding him of his struggle out of the mangled armor. He should have stayed in it and died with some dignity – should not have stumbled out and forced Rhodey to come save him, only to get killed in his stead.

Stubborn, loyal Rhodey, who had stuck with him through thick and thin, always somehow believing in him, no matter how many times Tony made his life impossible with his actions.

Rhodey, who held him on those first nights of terror after he let the team help him, reminding him that he wasn't alone in the darkness that was not just a nightmare.

If Rhodey died, there was no one who could ever replace him in Tony's life.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms, Tony felt his breaths catch in his throat, desperation thrown into a higher gear and constricting his insides in a painful grip.

Somewhere within that grip, a spark ignited, burning in his chest before it raced through his entire nervous system. It felt like an adrenaline rush on super-soldier steroids, wracking his entire being before seating itself at his very core, burning brighter, burning stronger, burning…

 _Burning._

Tony grew aware of his skin heating up as the fever emanated from the center of his chest. A pressure not unlike the lingering ghost sensation of the arc reactor increased, tendrils of it reaching up his spine and into his skull, changing the throbbing into a tingling, prickling pins and needles.

A red cloth was seemingly placed over his eyes, and as Tony fought to breathe through it, not to lose consciousness, he almost failed to notice the significance of that; the darkness he was so accustomed to living in when the implants were offline was no longer black but bleeding through with bloody red, and as the prickling sensation grew into a rather searing pain behind his eyeballs, the red began to win over and his brain realized he was _seeing shapes_.

* * *

 **Day 176 of the Alien-Human War**

The Hulk had landed on a Category 5, fists a hail of fury as they had pulled apart entire sections of the War Ship's roof before he had moved on to his next target: a Drone that had flown up to meet the attack and got punched into pieces as a roar of rage traveled the crater's walls.

Thor had shown no more mercy as he had brought down the lightning and the impressive might of his weapon, Mjolnir painting its name with the blood of their enemies.

When Tony and Rhodey descended from the sky, they focused on the ships that looked like they were trying to take off. A little over twenty square miles made it a challenge, but they had clearly caught the aliens with their pants down and the Hulk seemed to understand, without explanation, that letting their enemies become airborne was bad for the battle.

"Focus on long-range targeting," Tony told J.A.R.V.I.S. "Choose targets by urgency."

 _"Mark 54 has mapped the battlefield. Would you like to see the recent updates?"_ the AI asked.

"Where is Hades?" Tony asked as he motioned to see the detailed layout of the caldera and the positions of the team in relation to the aliens. He could see Cap leading Clint and Natasha down the side of the caldera, no doubt to make themselves useful.

 _"Above us, outside the range of the battle. The disturbances caused by Mjolnir are forcing it to keep its distance."_

"Don't let it get caught in the fight," Tony ordered and delivered another missile to a Category 4 that was trying to start moving away from the Hulk's current location. "How's it looking so far?" he asked J.A.R.V.I.S., because the AI would be able to read the battle as it took place a lot more efficiently than anyone else.

 _"We are going to run out of ammunition before we seize victory,"_ the AI reported.

"Then let's try and save some," Tony decided, knowing that being this heavily outnumbered didn't bode well for them. He arched lower and emptied one set of lasers on a nearby War Ship, gaining its attention as the weapon cut through the hull at the last minute. One of the huge cannons mounted on the War Ship's side began to trace his movements, and Tony weaved down as if to escape.

 _"The enemy has locked onto us,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. notified him.

"Good," Tony ground out as he prepared to turn sharply. The HUD warned him that the War Ship's weapon was still following, preparing to fire, and he weaved again, making a show of evading the targeting system.

The HUD flared up with a warning as the War Ship finally fired, and Tony made a final sharp turn, then turned off the thrusters, deployed the flaps, and twisted his body so that the armor began to fall rapidly. The War Ship's weapon was unable to react so fast –and hit another War Ship parked behind Tony, blasting an impressive, smoking hole in the side of the second ship.

Tony restarted the thrusters, switching the fall into a controlled glide and turned up sharply, taking to the skies again, on the lookout for the next target he could trick into shooting one of their own.

 _"Nice one,"_ Rhodey congratulated him over the comm. _"Tag team the Troop Transfer at my twelve?"_

"Would if I could," Tony responded. "We can't engage for too long because we can't let any of these other suckers escape and rain down hell on us."

Rhodey grunted his assent. _"It's hard to dismiss an opening, especially when that's what we've been doing for almost half a year,"_ he complained.

"Just remember the big picture," Tony encouraged. "This is a new game plan and we need to stick to it."

 _"We can't hold them on the ground/ground them forever. You know that, right?"_ Rhodey said back and sent a missile of his own towards another War Ship that was trying to gain altitude.

Tony knew that. They needed to do enough damage to remove their enemy's ability to extend the battlefield into the air, but that required attack power. The Hulk was doing a good job at creating chaos on the ground alongside Thor, but eventually that wouldn't be enough – especially not when the alien ships began to aim their weapons towards the bottom of the caldera, shooting at the Hulk even at the risk of hitting each other, trying to pin him down.

Thor escaped the worst of it, attempting to draw some of the fire, but the aliens had clearly decided on their target.

 _"The Hulk can't take that for much longer,"_ Steve observed over the comm.

"Either that or they'll make him really mad," Tony countered, biting his lip. He had seen Hulk get hurt, and he had seen him get mad. Whether he had a limit at either end of the spectrum, no one knew.

 _"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up suddenly, _"there is an increasing destabilization occurring beneath the caldera."_

Tony brought forward the new readings, both from his armor and Hades. "Is it going to collapse?" he asked, trying to figure out the changes and what they meant.

 _"Yes and no: the alien weapons seem to be causing an unexpected reaction, and I believe it is gearing up towards an explosion."_

"Eruption?" Tony frowned.

 _"Not in the literal sense, but I would suggest vacating the area."_

"Keep an eye on it," Tony ordered and switched back to the outgoing channel. "Cap, it may be best you take Hawk and Widow and retreat."

 _"Why?"_ Steve asked, a little out of breath; the trio was fending off a swarm of Drones and a couple aliens in battle armors which had most likely been sentries near the rim.

"Things may be about to blow up – big time," Tony explained.

 _"Ships?"_

"The volcano."

There was no response and Tony wondered if Steve had heard him.

 _"I thought it was dormant,"_ the super-soldier came back on a moment later.

"The way they're trying to shoot Hulk and peppering the bottom of the caldera, any magma left down there is starting to act up."

Silence followed again and Tony busied himself with the shepherding duties he and Rhodey had been saddled with.

 _"How big an explosion?"_ Steve asked when he spoke up next.

"Don't know," Tony said, knowing it was unhelpful. "Might be safest not to be at the center of it when things start to go boom."

 _"But will it be enough to do damage to the aliens?"_

Tony could definitely see the logic behind that question. "Probably, if we manage to keep them pinned down," he guessed.

 _"Then keep them where they are,"_ Steve ordered. _"We'll…"_

"Just get out of dodge," Tony told him. "We might not have time to come pick you up when things start heating up."

 _"We'll manage,"_ was all Steve said. Tony knew that he was a stubborn son of a bitch, and Clint and Natasha would most likely agree with him if they thought it was for the best.

Tony sighed and relayed the notice of impending doom to Rhodey, who was skeptical of the magnitude of the explosion.

 _"Won't the aliens notice if the crater is about to blow in their faces?"_

"Let's keep them too busy for anything else," Tony decided and flew towards where he had last seen Thor. He switched on the external speakers, seeing as Thor's comm rarely lasted through the first bout of lightning and thunder. "Hey, Caped Crusader! I need you to stay up here with Rhodey, bringing down all you've got to make sure the aliens ships stay pinned as close to the bottom of the crater as possible."

Thor nodded his head, indicating that he had heard. Tony could spot a few tears in his cape, but other than that it was impossible to tell if he was injured. Not injured enough to keep him from lifting his hammer and summoning down the thunder storm of the century, apparently, and Tony steered his suit further down than before, into the midst of the enemy fire.

 _"What are you doing, Tone?"_ Rhodey asked, worry coloring his words.

"Giving the big guy a hand and making sure that the enemy fire keeps going in the right direction," Tony replied, voice already tighter as he tried to avoid getting hit; the armor would not hold against too many shots from a Category 5's main cannons, as he had learned in the past. It increased his respect for the Hulk's power anew, seeing the green beast raging on as shot after shot took him down – only to be met with an angry retort. Chunks of rock went flying past Tony and towards the attacking ships, most of them being pulverized before they met their target but getting the message across loud and clear: the Hulk didn't like being shot at, and he wasn't going to stay down.

"Hey, Jade Jaws!" Tony called out after he almost got his own face plastered with volcanic rock. "Friendly fire coming through," he quipped and flew past him, then angled the chest RT towards the nearest War Ship and let it rip, the vibrations shivering through the suit. It wasn't enough to bring the War Ship down, but it did do some damage.

Tony glanced at the readings from beneath the caldera and flew westwards, attracting a larger portion of the enemy fire to follow him than he had expected. One of the shots grazed his foot, sending him into an uncontrollable spiral and a painful roll on the crater floor, but no one commented on it so it must have gone unnoticed by his team.

He grimaced when the rolling stopped. "That's gonna bruise," he grunted at the pain blooming at random points around his body. His brain felt like someone had stuck it in a metal bucket and beat it a few times too many. When the pain didn't fade, though, and the wooziness increased, he wondered if he'd got a concussion.

 _"Dodge!"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. warned an instant before the suit moved itself, jettisoning him roughly to the side – just in time to avoid being blasted by the enemy.

The impact of the weapon sent up a wave of pressure that tossed him further back like an autumn leaf. The HUD blinked and shivered, giving him readouts of a blast that could have turned a small city into a crater of its own, and which certainly would have cooked his suit inside out.

It had missed him – but it most certainly hit something else, deep beneath the ground: Tony felt the floor of the caldera shiver and then arch upwards like leavening dough.

 _"Explosion imminent,"_ his AI warned.

"Yeah, okay," Tony said, trying to react. "Where are the others?"

 _"The Hulk is still fighting. Lieutenant Rhodes and Mr. Odinson are still above the enemy force – and Captain Rogers is leading Agents Barton and Romanoff towards the rim but they will never make it in time."_

"Rhodes," Tony called out, "take Thor and get Cap and the others out of here. I'll grab the Hulk."

 _"How do you 'grab' the Hulk?"_ Rhodey asked. _"What's happening down there?"_

"Things are about to blow. No time to argue. Go!" Tony ordered. At this speed, they wouldn't need to distract the enemy before whatever was left of the magma blew in their faces. Tony knew better than to hang around and struggled to his feet.

 _"Sir, your brain activity is indicating we are fast approaching the time limit of the implants,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. warned.

That explained the wooziness. "Not yet," Tony said and tried to focus. "Up," he said, knowing the vocal command made miracles in a pinch, and the suit responded by shooting him into the air. Aiming back towards where he had last seen the Hulk, Tony wondered how hard it was to find one green rage monster in the middle of an erupting volcano? Steam was rising from the cracks in the earth and the whole bottom of the caldera was lifting up. It was possible it was mostly pressure that was trying to escape, but if there was enough gas in there to ignite…

He switched to tracking gamma radiation and soon caught sight of the Hulk, tilting a suit to shoot towards him. Either the Hulk was too far gone to realize what was happening beneath his feet or he did not care, because he was still fighting, smashing at a small army of alien battle armors that were pouring out of a fallen Troop Transfer.

"Hulk!" Tony called out as he got close enough. "We need to split, now!"

All he got in return was a roar and an exo-suit tossed in his general direction. He dodged the projectile and kept approaching. He wasn't sure which was going to hit critical first, the caldera or the implants, but either way, he needed to get his point across.

"We need to go!" he shouted again, knowing the armor could boost his voice without him needing to yell, but the situation called for releasing a little steam of his own.

The Hulk glanced towards him. There was no knowing if it was his tone or the words that caught his attention – or the slow, limping approach of yet another War Ship which had clearly followed Tony – but while he had it, Tony knew he had to keep the attention on him, too.

"Enough smashing. I'll give you a lift," Tony promised.

Beneath the Hulk's feet, the ground reached its breaking point and split in two. Steam gushed out, along with a cloud of dust and gas long compressed beneath the caldera's floor. Some of the particles were not what Tony would have expected but then, volcanoes and alien weaponry were an odd mix that clearly didn't go together.

"Jump!" Tony shouted, and the Hulk did, landing on the edge of the fallen Category 4 and then leaped again, high into the air.

Tony almost forgot to follow as the gas ignited and the earth burst open beneath him. J.A.R.V.I.S. was not so enraptured by it, though, thrusting him up past the enemy ships and out of the cloud of destruction – only to intercept the Hulk mid-air.

The Hulk grabbed onto his left leg, and for a moment it felt like the weight would drag them both down – not to mention dislocate something – but the suit held fast and got an extra boost from the cloud rising from below, the wind suddenly changing direction.

Had Tony been relying on human vision, he might have been blinded, but he navigated the cloud easily, deciding this was not the time to worry about the Hulk's lung capacity. They cleared the cloud although the extra weight was slowing him down, forcing him to fly lower and lower – but not too low to crash into the caldera's wall.

"Where are the others?" Tony asked. He prayed they had cleared the scene in time – especially when something literally blew up behind them and fire and rocks shot high into the air, arching up before starting to rain down. "Crap," Tony swore, knowing he could not dodge them all.

J.A.R.V.I.S. pinpointed the rest of the team, safely inside the Quinjet that was flying towards them, no doubt to meet him and the Hulk half-way.

"Tell those idiots to retreat from the blast range," Tony grumbled. "No need for all of us to get blown out of the sky."

 _"Can it and fly faster,"_ Clint deadpanned over the comm.

"Have you tried flying with a Hulk dangling from your leg?" Tony snapped back but increased the thrusters' output as much as he dared.

A boulder the size of a golf cart hit him in the shoulder a moment later, dropping them several dozen feet in the air before Tony could pull them back up. The Hulk grunted but hung on, smacking away another falling piece of rock, upsetting Tony's balance just about as much as being hit by the rock, albeit a bit less painful.

The Quinjet reached them an uncomfortably long forty seconds later, aligning in the air before the hatch opened to receive them. Tony knew there was no time for fine-tuned acrobatics and increased the thrust power enough to swing Hulk onto the ramp, then followed himself, blasting a rock that was about to hit the aircraft as he went.

"Fly us out of here, Barton!" he called out.

"Then tell your bots to stop backseat driving!" the archer yelled back.

Tony took in the scene: the bots had crammed their arms into the cockpit and were clearly trying to help Clint steer. "Dummy, You, get out of there," he ordered sharply.

"Don't be mad at them," Steve surprised him. "We would have never made it back to the Quinjet if those two hadn't flown it closer to the rim."

Tony, obviously, looked confused even while still encased in the armor. "What?" he asked.

 _"The bots assisted with flying,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. explained. _"Some of the functions required a physical touch and I could not remotely operate the Quinjet in order to intercept you and the rest of the team."_

The Hulk muttered something about not being fast enough, but as Tony looked over his shoulder, he could see the caldera still spitting out fire and rock – and simultaneously swallowing the alien camp.

 _"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up again, _"may I remind you that the implants are dangerously close to overloading your brain as we speak."_

Tony had grown so used to the throbbing on the flight from the caldera that he had almost forgotten. He took one last look at their field of victory, then sighed and reached up to undo the armor's helmet. "Disconnect the implants," he told his AI – knowing that J.A.R.V.I.S. would soon do it without being told to.

 _"Yes, sir,"_ the AI complied through the earpiece and Tony's brain instantly felt like someone had turned on the cooler as his world went dark.

"That went better than expected." Natasha mused while Tony got out of the armor. Rhodey came to help him with it, silent in his exhaustion and relief that they were all still alive. Tony agreed with Natasha's statement although he didn't feel like saying much, either.

"Today, we were mighty," Thor agreed. He sounded weary, and Tony wondered how much juice playing the god of thunder sucked out of him.

"Guys," Clint called back to them over the sound of the wind; with Bruce still big and green, there was limited space at the back of the Quinjet, and the ramp wasn't fully closed. "I hope you're not done being all mighty and shit: there are several Category 3's coming after us for seconds."

 _to be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: Burn - Crash

**Chapter 3: Burn / Crash**

* * *

 **Day 183 of the Alien-Human War**

It was like staring at fire: the flickering wisps, restless shapes and multiple hues of red, orange, gold and paling yellow breaching the darkness around the flame.

The hues morphed into shapes, over and over, focusing and distorting in waves that became more regular by the second. The pattern seemed unexpected at first, but it was a _rhythm_ , and finally Tony drew a comparison to the beating of his heart, finding a common factor.

He stared, unbelieving, fairly certain that something was going very wrong in his body. The shapes, when he could make sense of them, were regular, and he adapted to them with more ease than when he first put on the light helmet and activated the implants. These distorted shapes had many similar qualities to them, and for an instant he wondered whether Extremis was tapping into the implants, sensing his desperation.

His body was still overheated, and Tony felt like his eyeballs were burning. He blinked instinctively to ease the dry sensation – only to have his world turn black as his eyelids closed. He started, alarmed, and swiftly re-opened his eyes; the red-and-orange world returned in front of him as soon as he did.

The implants had not needed his eyes, bypassing them entirely. His chest tightened at the realization, the heat trapped within him surging, and somehow the shapes sharpened, easier to track and decipher.

He wasn't looking into the flames: he _was_ the flame.

Empowered by this knowledge, he turned his head towards where he had last heard Rhodey's voice. The colors flickered, but every pulse of his heart – every squeeze of blood through the veins – brought him a new, refreshed image, and he could see the alien battle armor now, and his friend's body on the ground.

He could see Rhodey's body heat and the electrical bursts across his nervous system. He could see his heart beat…

And then, as he shifted his gaze, he could see the alien within the exo-suit, more clearly than with his suit's scanners or the military's equipment. The implants had given him similar information, but there was something organic about how he was seeing things now, whereas the implants had relied on fine-tuned technology.

Moving slowly, Tony got his feet under him again, afraid that if he moved too fast he would lose his grasp on whatever was happening. If his fear and distress had triggered Extremis – there was no other explanation for what was happening, no other source for the heat that still coursed through him – then gaining his confidence might make it vanish as fast as it had appeared.

To improve his chances of maintaining this newly discovered power, he decided to focus on rage. The alien in front of him could just as well have been one of the three that had attacked his home and poured poison into his eyes. It could have been this very same alien that blew up the wall and killed Pepper – and was preparing to fire at Rhodey and take him from Tony, too.

He had been aiming for rage, but the tidal wave that rose within him, which felt like it was about to literally set him on fire, was not something he had expected. It was primal and pure, and it narrowed his mind down to a handful of necessary thoughts and instincts: he was going to destroy his enemy, even if he had to rip the battle armor apart piece by piece and sink his bare fingers into the alien flesh within.

In fact, he would prefer doing it all himself; to feel the alien alloy give beneath the raw strength of his fury and to hear the last scream of the creature that had come to invade his home.

A yell escaped his throat, months of frustration pouring out of him as he rushed his target. The exo-suit turned to meet him, the weapon that had just been aimed at Rhodey rising towards him instead, but Tony dodged it with speed Steve would have envied, sprang up, and landed with one foot on the raised arm, left hand bracing against the exo-suit's shoulder while be raised the other to strike.

Punching the battle armor should have hurt. It should have split his skin, fractured bone and halted his attack on the spot.

Instead, he felt a deep satisfaction as his fist sank into the metal, his body singing, fire burning steady within him. He felt no pain as he pulled his fist back out and used both his hands to tear at the hole, to widen it, to dig out the alien inside like a snail withdrawn into its shell.

Briefly, the suit's arm managed to dislodge him and throw him to the ground, but he rolled to his feet and charged again. He heard a weapon go off, saw the heat just before the blast singed his shoulder. A brief flare of pain registered this time, but it only served to fuel his determination and he jumped at the suit again, tearing, punching and clawing until the battle armor crashed to the ground, its front torn open, smoke from burning flesh assaulting his senses and prompting Tony to back off before he inhaled more of the repugnant smell.

His heartbeat eased a little, the world pulsing more calmly with it, giving him a sense of ease. With that threat neutralized, he turned around to look for another, but all he could see was Rhodey, still on the ground, several feet from him and the fallen exo-suit.

Tony faced him and slowly walked over to his side, his eyes scanning his body. It was hard to tell how badly he was hurt; with his vision filled with shades of red, he could not tell skin and clothes from blood. He could see his heartbeat, though, steadily transporting blood through his body, and he tried to trace the flow for a moment, mesmerized by it.

Kneeling on the ground, Tony reached out to touch Rhodey's shoulder, to see whether he could make him stir. He made sure not to squeeze too hard, aware that he had just made an alien armor look like it had been put through a shredder whereas his suit was barely able to make a dent without excessive force.

He barely managed to shake Rhodey before the other let out a strangled sound of distress and Tony smelled something burning. This time the smell was familiar, unlike the alien, and he withdrew his hand in horror, watching as colors danced on Rhodey's shoulder, almost beautiful if he hadn't known what they were from, the sickening stench of burnt flesh stuck in his nose.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, his heartbeat jumping up in response to his distress. It forced him to clamp down on his anxiety and move further away, because he could not lose control while sitting so close to Rhodey. "Fuck," he breathed, pressing his hands into his chest as he rocked on his knees. So far, he had only tried to stoke the fire and make it burn brighter, but he had hurt Rhodey just by touching him and he needed to get it under control before he did something worse.

Slowly, as if he were being lowered into icy water with agonizing patience, the heat dissipated, sinking beneath his skin and back to his very core where it cooled down the rest of the way, forming a solid weight that compressed his lungs and made it hard to breathe out the distressed sounds he wasn't fully aware he was making.

And, just as the heat receded, so did the colors from his vision; the last, sad little flicker of red pulsed twice along with his heart before going out, leaving him in the darkness once more, shivering and defenseless.

The drop from feeling all-powerful was hard. His thoughts were no longer blocked and censored by his primal instincts, and it felt like someone had turned off the dampeners, leaving him vulnerable to a sensory overload of doubts, fears and conflict.

He wanted to move back towards Rhodey, but in his blind state he could not see him, and might even hurt him more. And if he started burning up again without warning…

Tony sat still, trying to empty his mind in order not to accidently provoke himself. He could feel wind brushing against his skin and slowly grew aware that his skin was exposed for the most part, his clothing torn. His ears kept picking up noises that were hard to decipher, and he tried not to imagine their origin; if it was a threat, he would have to defend them somehow, but until then he needed to stay calm in order not to do any more damage.

He was not sure how much time had passed before he heard feet stomping against the ground and a familiar huff from the Hulk. A sneer followed, and something heavy being kicked, the metallic weight tossed across the ground a few times.

"Don't," someone warned, authoritative and firm. Tense, too, which made Tony's body go rigid. He knew that voice, though – just as he recognized the stride, tired but still purposeful, and the firm grip of his fingers against his shoulder. Normally the touch would have inspired confidence and a sense of security, but this time it prompted Tony to barely abort a cry of warning as he moved away from it. "It's okay, Tony," Steve told him. "It's me."

"Don't touch me," Tony managed.

"Okay," Steve said, releasing him. It sounded like he backed off a little for good measure. "Are you okay?" he asked next.

"I think Rhodey's hurt," Tony responded. "Help him."

Steve moved past him and his shield was laid out on the ground. Tony listened intently, focusing on the sounds Steve was making. There was no indication Rhodey was stirring, and a part of Tony wished he could go hot, just a little, to see his heartbeat again – to make sure he was okay.

"Hulk, signal for Thor to come down," Steve called out. "We need to get Rhodes to a medic."

"Gray tin man got crushed," the Hulk commented.

"His suit did, but he's in one piece," Steve stated, possibly more for Tony's benefit. "He's got some wounds and bruising, and a nasty burn on his shoulder, but he's alive."

Tony flinched at the mention of the burn and slowly pulled his right hand out of sight, hiding the weapon that had inflicted the damage on his friend.

Steve let out a faint hiss at something, but did not explain. It distantly reminded Tony of his team's first reactions to his own injuries, which didn't inspire confidence.

"Rhodey will be fine," Steve stated at length, turning back to face Tony. "Are you sure you're all alright?"

"Don't I look alright?" Tony challenged. He had no idea of the condition he was in, but he didn't feel any pain.

"You don't have a scratch on you even though your clothes look like they've seen better days," Steve replied. Tony could feel the piercing blue eyes on him, taking in every little clue. Judging him. "What happened?" the super-soldier asked finally, shifting a bit closer – making enough noise to not startle Tony, and refraining from touching him.

"My suit got bust. The helmet, too," Tony replied slowly. "Rhodey flew in to rescue me, but…"

"Looks like he did a number on the alien armor," Steve noted, his voice tinged with hesitation. "I've never seen marks like that before. Did he get a new weapon or something?"

Tony swallowed. He didn't want to admit to hurting Rhodey, but he could not lie. The fact that he was even alive – that either of them were – was all thanks to the unexpected miracle of Extremis acting up under duress. "Rhodey didn't do that," Tony began, but could not bring himself to finish it. He could barely remember it, through a haze of red that resembled blood more than flames now that he could actually think again.

He had never felt so angry in his life; so close to losing control and not caring enough to stop it. Was that how Bruce felt? Was that how Extremis behaved before it went volatile?

The thought made him shudder. How close had he come to simply disintegrating himself and incinerating everything around him?

"Then what did this?" Steve asked, clearly deciding Tony needed to be prompted for a reply.

The frozen, heavy lump in his chest cracked, just a little. Tony expected flames to start licking up from his core, but that didn't happen. As the wind blew by them again, he shivered at the cold, almost glad that no heat rose to battle it from within him.

"I did," he finally said. Admitting it didn't bring him any relief – mostly because he hadn't actually admitted anything yet. "I went hot. There's no other explanation for it. One moment I'm on the ground, and the next Extremis is burning me up from the inside – burning so bright it actually let me see, for a moment," Tony described and frowned, then lifted his face, momentarily caught in the memory of seeing with his own two eyes, but there was nothing but darkness left in the aftermath and he could not see Steve.

"You were able to see?" Steve repeated. "How?" He took a sharp breath. "Can you… now?"

"No," Tony shook his head. "It's gone. But I could see Rhodey on the ground and the exo-suit above him, and I… did that," he tilted his head to the side pointedly, trying to motion towards the dead husk of the alien battle armor. "I just kept going at it like a rabid animal, and once it was dead, I tried to make Rhodey wake up." His brain decided to replay Rhodey's sound of distress that would surely haunt his dreams for years to come. "I took him by the shoulder and burned him," he said, words cracking, sliding into a whisper. "I didn't mean to, didn't realize I was literally burning up…"

"You're not burning anymore," Steve observed unnecessarily, perhaps thinking that would help Tony to feel less bad about it.

"I made it go away," Tony shrugged, then huffed. "That sounds ridiculous, like it was some kind of bogeyman hiding in my closet…" He lifted his hand to clutch at the side of his head, which was starting to ache. "I could have literally exploded, and didn't even realize it. All I could think of was that I had the ability to see again, and the power to kill the alien and tear apart the exo-suit. That I could have my vengeance and save Rhodey."

Steve pulled him into an embrace so fast that Tony could not prevent it, and after the initial fear that he might hurt him – though nothing happened – he slowly relaxed in the firm hold.

"You didn't blow up, and Rhodey will be fine," Steve told him, determination laid thick on his words. "Whatever triggered Extremis… You'll figure it out, soon, and maybe then you'll be able to see again."

Tony hadn't thought about that – hadn't dared to, when all he'd been trying to do was to sit still and not burn a hole through his best friend.

If he found the trigger and controlled the chain reaction, he might finally be able to see the world around him without depending on the implants and could exist outside the time limit that might fry his brain.

* * *

 **Day 176 of the Alien-Human War**

"Guys," Clint called out. "I hope you're not done being all mighty and shit: there are several Category 3's coming after us for seconds."

Tony froze, cradling the light helmet which he had just taken off his head.

As if seeing his hesitation, Rhodey's hands firmly gripped his, holding them down. "You're at your limit," he said quickly. "You can't push it now, or there might be no coming back from it."

Tony knew that, of course; he felt better the instant the implants went offline, his brain was still smarting, and his nerves were misfiring all over his body from the prolonged use of the helmet.

"We're not going to out-fly multiple Strike Teams," Tony protested nonetheless. "We need all the firepower we can get."

"I'm not going to let you fry your brain," Rhodey added mulishly.

 _"Sir, I can fly Mark 52 to battle,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. offered before Tony could come up with an argument.

He could, Tony knew that. It hurt, to be so easily discarded, but he needed a break and he wasn't going to get inside the armor without the implants activated. "Fine," he groused, "but you better pull out all the stops."

 _"Naturally, sir,"_ the AI agreed, although Tony knew J.A.R.V.I.S. would never do battle like an organic mind. Whether that was actually an advantage or a hindrance, it was hard to say.

"They're gaining on us, fast!" Clint warned from the cockpit.

"Rhodes, Thor, J.A.R.V.I.S.: get out there," Steve ordered "Buy us time."

"Aye," Thor replied, not sounding like he was eager to battle again but he knew it had to be done.

The Hulk let out a grunt, like he was taking offense at having been forgotten.

"We're airborne," Steve said. "You can't fly." Clearly he was trying to reason with the big guy.

"Don't need to fly to smash," the Hulk muttered.

"If they get too close, you jump and go smash," Tony suggested as he reached out with his hands in order to find a place to sit; if he couldn't fight, he might as well stay out of everyone's way. A hand caught his left forearm, its size indicating it was Natasha, and she wordlessly guided him to the bench by the wall.

The Hulk cracked his knuckles but clearly stayed inside the Quinjet while the others took off.

It did not take long before Tony could hear the two sides engaging in battle, explosions rattling the aircraft. There was not as much debris as in a grounded battle, but an aerial battlefield was harder to control. Tony excelled in aerial combat, but he tended to choose ways to evade the enemy and keep from getting hit until he had room to strike. In the open sky, there was nowhere to hide – especially for a Quinjet – and he wished someone would at least tell him how they were faring against the aliens.

The bots rolled over to him, offering mild comfort and a distraction: something to hold onto – and lean on, when the explosions got a bit too close for comfort and it felt like the Quinjet was going to fall out of the sky.

The Hulk seemed to have similar issues, his weight crashing against the walls of the Quinjet. Tony hoped the big guy wouldn't get pissed off at the enclosed space and try to punch his way out.

In hindsight, he needn't have worried about the Hulk: not five minutes into their escape, something hit the Quinjet, giving the rotor closest to Tony a very unhealthy background noise. As the aircraft gradually tilted as a result, he knew it wasn't going to be long before someone announced they were being forced to land.

The bots let out concerned bleeps, and Tony leaned into them rather than the wall at his back, maintaining some semblance of 'upright' before the plane tilted too much for that simple trick to work.

"No good," Natasha's voice reached his ears; she was talking to someone else, but the noises from the broken engine and the whirling of wind from the partially open hatch forced her to raise her voice. "Clint says he won't be able to take us down safely."

"We can't spare any of our flying members to assist us," Steve replied.

"He's trying to take us lower, but it's likely we'll have to jump," Natasha finished, trying not to be overheard, but both Tony and the Hulk were within earshot.

The Hulk let out a grunt and turned, by the sound of it, most likely ensuring he was the first in line.

Tony was in no hurry to make such a decision. His body was telling him that putting on the light helmet was still a bad idea – and the bots were shivering and shifting around restlessly, signaling that they understood what was happening.

The engine behind him was sputtering, whining and clunking in turns, most likely depending on what tricks Clint was deploying to keep them in the air. Tony could tell something would fall apart soon, though, and he was prepared for it when Steve's voice came from somewhere a lot closer to him: "We're abandoning ship," he told Tony.

Tony's fingers tightened around the arm of one of the bots. "If we're going to crash, the bots will have to jump with us." He didn't know how, exactly, but he was not going to leave the bots behind.

He fully expected Steve to argue – or just huff in frustration and drag him out by force. There was nothing Tony could have done to stop it, save for calling Mark 52 back to the Quinjet, and in this situation he knew it would compromise the lives of the whole team.

"Natasha, count the chutes," Steve ordered.

"Six," she answered promptly. "Clint and I can share one, but even then…"

"Hulk needs no parachute," the Hulk proclaimed.

"We can spare two on each bot," Steve said, surprising Tony. He had expected anything but compliance, whether it was a token argument or a plea for Tony to come to his senses. Instead, Steve lay a careful hand on his where it was holding onto one of the bots. "Can you instruct them to open the chute mid-air?" he asked Tony.

"No time!" Clint shouted. "We need to do this now." His voice was coming from much closer than the cockpit.

Steve's hand withdrew, and Tony sat, trying to tell indicative sounds apart from the noises of battle and the broken engine. The bots shifted, moving away from him, leaving Tony clutching onto the bench for support.

On his right, the hatch opened the rest of the way, and with a grunt of effort, the Hulk moved. He must have braced himself and jumped before the entire aircraft tipped, and for a moment Tony feared the engine would give out and plunge them into an uncontrolled spiral towards the earth.

One of the bots screeched in protest, further away from Tony than he had expected.

"We're running out of time," Natasha said loudly over the whipping of the wind trapped inside the Quinjet. "Tony, you have to tell your bots to cooperate."

"With what?" Tony yelled back.

"Moving to the edge of the hatch so that we can open the chutes," she replied.

Tony swallowed. It wasn't as if the bots could really operate the chutes in the air – they most certainly weren't built for sky-diving – and it was possible the bots themselves knew that. Whether they could experience vertigo just by acknowledging they were far above the ground was questionable, but Tony had programmed them to comprehend dangers that would be damaging to the bots, and understanding said dangers didn't do much without an instinct to avoid them.

Like falling out of a plane strapped into two parachutes that might not even hold their weight…

Determinedly, Tony moved his hands to undo the belt he had fastened earlier to keep him in his seat. He didn't think too hard about what he was about to do, and once the security of the belt fell away from his waist, he slowly moved to stand up. As if to mock him and remind him of his place in the world, the Quinjet tilted just then, almost sending him crashing back into the wall above the bench, but a hand shot out to steady him, an arm wrapping half-way around his middle, and Tony used that as a new safety line as he blindly moved towards the hatch.

"You guys need to be brave," he said over the wind. "I'll be right behind you, but I can't jump with you."

The bots whined, trying to appeal to him. One of them reached out for him, claw closing around his bicep as if they would rather drag Tony down with them than let go.

The Quinjet kept tilting to the side, and Tony braced himself against the pull of gravity. They couldn't have gained much altitude after he and the Hulk entered the Quinjet, and if they wanted to jump, they had to do it before there would be no time for the chutes to open.

"Go!" he ordered the bots, trying to block out the fact that they might not survive the fall, ending up in a hundred little pieces on the ground, and he could not put them back together in his current state.

The claw let go of him.

"Pull," Steve said to someone, and Tony heard a questioning beep from one of the bots, then a flap of a fabric as it trapped air inside it and snapped out to its intended shape. There was an audible screech from both bots, and Tony felt a sudden urge to dive after them, as insane as that was. The arm around his waist stiffened and pulled him back against another body, as if reading his mind. "You two go ahead; I'll take Tony with me," Steve ordered, words spoken so close to Tony's ear the certainty in them made him relax a bit despite everything: Steve had a plan, and if they followed it, they might just make it through.

Tony didn't hear Clint and Natasha jump out. There were no prolonged farewells and hand-holding – not with the aircraft at an almost uncomfortable angle. Outside, the battle could still be heard, but they must have arched away from it because it didn't seem to be taking place in their immediate vicinity anymore.

Not wasting time, Steve briskly set to work: "Can you hold onto the strap above you?" he asked Tony, then guided Tony's right hand above his head where a strap hung from the ceiling, to be used for support when standing in a moving plane or preparing for a jump.

Tony curled his fingers around the strap, then brought his other arm up as well for added stability. Steve let go of him almost immediately, moving away. The Quinjet's hull creaked and the aircraft tilted even further, forcing Tony to tighten his grip and instinctively close his eyes, pretending that he was safe. Items clattered across the floor, rolling towards the wall at his back.

Steve returned then, his weight briefly bumping against Tony. His fingers gripped the strap more tightly, to hold still; if Steve lost his footing, it was unlikely Tony could support them both for long.

Fortunately Steve found his balance and leaned away from Tony, arms and hands brushing against him as Steve worked something around his hips and thighs – straps or rope – then tightened the material until it felt like Tony might lose circulation. Steve tugged at it, as if making sure it was secure, then pushed close to Tony's front and tightened another few straps.

Experimentally, Tony tried to shift his weight backwards, but found himself fastened against Steve's body.

"I need you to trust me," Steve said over the wind, lips almost brushing Tony's ear as he leaned close.

Tony nodded sharply.

"Let go of the strap and hold onto me," Steve instructed.

Tony had never blindly trusted another person in his life. When he lost his sight, he had to make compromises with his team, but it was still one thing to trust them and to blindly have faith. The Quinjet began to vibrate while he still clung onto the strap, though, and he knew that if he didn't do as he was told, they would both end up crashing and burning with the Quinjet.

With a shaky breath, Tony let go of the strap, one hand at the time, and wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders. He felt something fastened on Steve's back – the last parachute – but did not encounter the familiar curve of his shield.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Tony asked.

"Nope," Steve replied and reached around him. There it was, on his arm: the legendary weapon of Captain America.

Steve took a step to the side, the straps forcibly pulling Tony along. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, feeling the wind increase as they neared the hatch. For the first time, it dawned on him that soon they would be falling, and he could not tell up from down. He could not see when they would approach the ground – or if something had gone wrong and they were going to end up as a pile of mush on the forest floor below.

Anticipation made his stomach clench – and then the realization that he himself had forgotten something.

His nails pressed at the exposed skin at Steve's neck. "The helmet!" he shouted in warning. "I don't have it."

"I do," Steve replied – then used the arm around Tony's waist to lift him up, just a bit, so that he could take the last few strides towards the hatch.

Tony grunted, never having liked it when people lifted him off the ground. His arms tightened around Steve's body, predicting the fall that was waiting for them.

He wondered whether Steve's makeshift harness tying them together would hold.

"I won't let go!" Steve shouted over the wind, his arm pressing them together.

Tony was about to yell back that he wasn't about to let go either, God help him, but that was when the Quinjet made its final lurch, tipping sideways so hard it felt like they were falling already, and Tony felt Steve jump away from the hatch, sending them falling through the air.

Tony could hear nothing except the roar of the wind. His arms shook, fingers clamping, trying to hold on; the force of the air almost pried his hands loose, and he kind of wished he would have had the forethought to use his legs to further his hold on Steve's body. As it was, it felt like Steve was properly braced against the fall whereas Tony's legs flapped around, the cool air biting against his scalp.

A few seconds into the fall the panic started to hit him: he could tell they were falling fast, but he was trapped in the darkness and could not see the sky, the falling Quinjet, or Steve's face. He could not see the ground which they were rushing towards, and as each second ticked by, he began to worry Steve had forgotten he was supposed to open the chute and would instead let them fall to their deaths. The arm around his waist did little to comfort him, and he felt like screaming his lungs out or losing his breakfast – not to mention just passing out as his body failed to adjust to the fall.

He did not feel Steve move before the sound of the opening parachute briefly reached his ears.

Tony most certainly felt the violent pull as the chute fully extended and began to halt their fall. That was swiftly followed by the sensation of continued fall. His arms were numb, all of his weight pressing against Steve's arm and the straps between them that were pulled tight as gravity kept tugging him down against the restraints.

Steve didn't let go, though, and Tony pressed his face against his shoulder, trying to breathe and envision their controlled landing that would occur at any second.

As their free fall gradually eased into a more controlled upright floating, Tony felt some of the fear ooze out of his system. He still felt sick and the pull on his arms seemed to increase tenfold, but the chute was open and they were not wildly crashing to their deaths anymore.

The fall was still rapid enough to tell Tony that Steve wasn't taking the scenic route to the ground. With the wind blocking his ears, Tony couldn't be sure, but he occasionally felt like he could hear the battle still going on. It felt like he had been stuck in a huge stack of cotton wool and crammed into a drum dryer, the rest of the world blocked away while he rolled around inside until he was so dizzy in the head he couldn't make heads and tails of anything.

Without any warning, Steve angled his body against Tony's. It made him start and wonder what was wrong, his mind swiftly coming up with a number of things, spanning from a parachute malfunction to a nearing enemy aircraft ready to fire upon them.

As the chute flapped above them, his mind chose the first option. He prayed J.A.R.V.I.S. had seen them jump out of the Quinjet and would fly over to help them safely to the ground, but the AI had been silent all through the preparations to jump. Either the communications were down or J.A.R.V.I.S. was extremely busy, but in either case, their jump might go unnoticed by everyone in the heat of the battle.

The time he spent rifling through those thoughts distracted him from what was really going on, and thus it made him let out a yell of surprise when their fall came to a sudden stop, Steve's legs forcing them to a jarring halt for a fraction of a second before their momentum forced them forward and they fell down hard in a tangle of limbs, with enough force to punch the air out of them both.

Steve grunted and Tony did not wonder why, his arm crushed between his shield and Tony's body. While his mind told him they were finally safely on the ground and he could release his cramped hold on the other man – a hold that had been close to falling apart as they fell – he found himself unable to let go of Steve. In his defense, he still felt a bit like he was falling, his inner ear not yet fully caught up.

"We're okay," Steve said, voice wheezing, and Tony could, to his utter shame, admit he whimpered with relief.

 _to be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Watch - Hide

**Chapter 4: Watch / Hide**

* * *

 **Day 184 of the Alien-Human War**

The hospital room in Los Alamitos base was nothing fancy, but it offered privacy.

After the team had arrived, they had taken Rhodey away. Tony was not a good enough liar to hide how much it distressed him, and perhaps that was why the others negotiated for him to be allowed to sit with Rhodey after the man was through with examinations and initial treatment.

Tony had cleaned up and eaten when Clint pestered him to do it, threatening to go and awaken Bruce from his post-Hulk slumber if he didn't eat his veggies like a good boy. It wasn't that Tony had anything against veggies, but he simply hadn't felt like he could stomach any kind of food. He knew Bruce needed his rest, though, so he forced himself to eat, and amazingly enough the food stayed down.

Once they had wheeled Rhodey to a private room and allowed Tony to begin his silent vigil at his bedside, the others had pretty much vanished. The bots were outside the room – Tony could hear them every now and then – but otherwise it was just the beeps of the machines and Tony sinking deeper into the darkness when nothing happened.

After a while, he inched his chair closer to Rhodey's bed and felt his way around, carefully taking the closest of his friend's hands between his, allowing the touch to ground him. An apology hovered on his lips constantly, but he held it back, knowing no one would be listening to it right now.

When one of the nurses attempted to enter the room, hours later, the bots obviously blocked her path. Tony listened to it for a few seconds, then yelled for the bots to let her through; he wasn't going to go stumbling around the room to find the door, so he sat and waited like the blind person he was for the world to adjust itself around him.

The nurse entered, not saying a word to him. Tony could feel her eyes on him, though, and it was as if she knew… He inched his chair back, letting go of Rhodey's hand – fully intending to resume his earlier position once she was gone.

There were sounds as the nurse moved around: more machines beeping, sheets being rustled, pen scrawling over paper fastened onto a clipboard.

Tony licked his lips, tried to wait it out, but in the end he could not make himself wait until Bruce woke up and came to tell him the news. "Is it bad?" he asked the nurse.

There was a startled intake of breath, as if she had expected for him to be mute as well as blind. Tony would've been offended if he'd had the time to spare on such a trivial feeling.

"He has a lot of bruising, a sprained wrist and most likely a concussion," the nurse finally replied.

"And the burn?" Tony asked, trying to make it sound casual.

"Second degree, for the most part. It should heal with enough time."

Tony suppressed any outward reaction he wanted to give. Second degree burns left a mark, and it could be a month before Rhodey could get back in the suit without risk of pain and further injury. Well, his suit was mostly scrap metal from what Clint and Natasha had reported, so perhaps that wasn't such an issue…

Still, it sickened him, and for a moment he recalled the smell of burnt flesh, and felt like retching.

The nurse didn't notice, finishing her inspection before leaving without another word.

It took Tony a long time to convince himself he could move and touch Rhodey without accidently burning him again. The fact that it had been an accident didn't alleviate his guilt in the slightest, and he hoped the medical staff had at least given Rhodey some painkillers to combat the inevitable pain.

Tony was holding onto Rhodey's hand, thumb restlessly caressing his skin, when the other man stirred. "Goddamn," he groaned and shifted. "Where are we?" he asked next, which meant he was awake and probably looking at Tony.

"Los Alamitos," Tony replied cautiously and extracted his hands from Rhodey's person, just in case Rhodey recalled what had happened on the battlefield.

"Are you okay?" was what Rhodey asked, instead of an accusation.

"Yeah," Tony shrugged. "Are you in pain? Do you need meds? I'm sure they have some…"

Rhodey shifted around a bit and hissed. "I'll be feeling some of this for the next week," he started – then hissed again and shifted some more. "That looks… nasty," he stated after a long pause.

Tony resisted the temptation to shift his chair away. "The burn?"

"Yeah. Don't remember getting it, which is probably fortunate."

Tony clamped his jaw shut, preventing the apology from escaping just yet, which resulted in a rather suffocated sound.

"What's wrong?" Rhodey asked.

"I…" Tony hesitated.

What kind of opening was he waiting for? Then again, he could just say that the exo-suit had caused it and Rhodey would be none the wiser – not unless Steve spilled the beans for him. Hulk, after all, wasn't one to gossip, and Tony wasn't sure if the rage monster had paid attention to his and Steve's exchange when there was a broken exo-suit to kick around.

"Nothing," Tony finally said.

"I know that face," Rhodey argued. Tony tried to relax his facial muscles. "Yeah, _that_ face," Rhodey pushed, then drew a sharp breath as something hurt. "Just spill, Tony," he ordered. "I got the shit kicked out of me saving your ass, so the least you can do is stop pretending there isn't something that's bothering you – which, I might add, you're unsuccessfully trying to hide from me."

Rhodey had no idea, and Tony was fast losing his resolve to find a way to wrap the truth in a lie. "I gave you that burn," he admitted. "I didn't mean to, but I should have realized it could happen." People said telling the truth was a way to feel relieved, but Tony didn't experience that.

A silence followed and Tony wished he could see Rhodey's face to be able to predict his reaction. Rhodey didn't have that much of a poker face – not around Tony, because they had long since stopped bothering with that kind of stuff.

"What'd you use to burn me like that?" Rhodey finally asked. He didn't sound accusatory – at least not yet. Maybe he was just relieved Tony was okay, because the last time he was conscious, things hadn't exactly been going their way.

"The same thing that I used to rip the exo-suit apart," Tony admitted. Rhodey may have not immediately found out about the origin of the burn, but there was no way Steve wouldn't tell someone about Tony's confession concerning Extremis and his brief ability to see with his own two eyes – sort of.

"You took it down?" Rhodey responded, sounding positively shocked. "How? Did you get another suit to help you out?"

Tony shook his head. "Extremis," he replied.

It was fairly likely Rhodey was frowning. "But you didn't… blow up or anything, right? Like those other ones. Or breathe fire."

Tony bit back a laugh. "Breathe fire? Hell, no," he denied. "And no blowing up, either – obviously," he added, even though Rhodey should have figured that out. "The Extremis I'm using is a lot more refined. You remember that, right?"

"Right…"

"It just… started acting up," Tony summed up, knowing that Rhodey was waiting for an explanation. "I felt all hot and invincible, and then I could see, like I was looking at the world through a wall of fire. I attacked the alien like there was no tomorrow, and I remember being… savage…" There were a lot of blanks in his memory, like he couldn't tap into that kind of animal instinct in his current state of mind.

"What does that mean?" Rhodey asked.

"Savage?" Tony guessed. "It's like… I don't remember a whole lot of it, but it was like all the excess thoughts and emotions left my head and all that was left was the primal need for revenge and to protect you."

Words didn't really grasp how it had felt. All Tony could recall was simply an echo of the intensity of those minutes, and he would have to examine his memories to comprise a real answer for later.

Rhodey was silent again, probably mulling over Tony's words and trying to unlock the hidden meanings lurking inside them. "How long did it last?" he asked eventually.

"Not long," Tony responded. "Maybe ten minutes. By the time I was done with the exo-suit, my thoughts cleared up a bit. I went to check on you and…"

"Burned my shoulder," Rhodey predicted.

"Yeah." Tony felt ashamed again. "I tried to rouse you, and it took just a second to do that," he explained and motioned towards the general direction of Rhodey's shoulder. "I cooled down pretty fast after that."

"It's okay, Tony," Rhodey told him. "I'll live. It stings like a mother, but like you said, they probably have meds for that and I know you didn't mean to do it." There was a pause, and then Rhodey was reaching out for him, catching one of Tony's hands in his. "Now, can we talk about the fact that something happened and you could _see_ again?"

Tony closed his fingers around Rhodey's, relief washing through him. "It was amazing," he admitted. "Different, but amazing." He couldn't help smiling. "I don't know how, or why, and it wasn't the same as actual eyesight, but it was the closest I've had since…"

Rhodey squeezed his hand hard. "We'll figure it out," he said – much the same as Steve had when he found Tony on the battlefield, and Tony was starting to think that it really was happening.

He would have his eyesight back.

* * *

 **Day 176 of the Alien-Human War**

Steve untangled them from the parachute, allowing Tony a few precious minutes to ground himself. Snow crunched beneath his feet every time he moved, and he was growing increasingly aware of the fact that he wasn't dressed for the weather. It was like that crash in Tennessee all over again…

"Here," Steve said suddenly, moving closer. "I grabbed some clothes for you."

Tony felt a bundle of fabric brushing against his hand and grabbed hold of it, unfolding it and feeling his way around the pants. "When did you find the time for that?" he asked as he wrestled to step into the pants, checking twice that he had them turned the right way.

"Before we jumped," Steve said, offering Tony a jacket once he was done with the pants. "Didn't find shoes, though," he lamented as Tony clumsily zipped up the jacket.

Tony wriggled his toes in the undersuit's footwear. They would isolate the cold for a while, but they were essentially slippers, meant to shelter his feet and maintain circulation inside the armor while not causing discomfort or getting in the way. "I'll manage," he promised.

Somewhere above them, something exploded, and Tony could almost imagine the source of the noise steadily falling down until it hit the ground with a resounding crash.

"A Drone," Steve told him. "The battle's ceasing for now." He didn't specify whether they were winning, or if both sides were simply drawing back to lick their wounds before round two – or three, if one counted the battle at the caldera. "We need to find the others and regroup," Steve continued then, determination in his voice. "We'll find the bots."

In the middle of falling through the air and realizing it was highly unpleasant doing so without seeing a thing, Tony had momentarily forgotten about the bots. Steve's words prompted a nod and a wave of concern – as well as gratitude. "Thank you for saving them," Tony said, hoping that Steve could hear the honesty in his words. "You didn't have to do that."

"You would have fought me tooth and nail if I hadn't," Steve replied. "I simply chose the route that was likelier to get us all to safety the fastest."

"A tactical decision…" Tony muttered. He felt a bit disappointed that was Steve's reason – although he was glad, too, for obvious reasons.

Steve must have seen that in his expression because he stepped closer to Tony and laid his hands on his shoulders. "I know the bots are important to you, Tony. They are your family – and you don't leave family behind. In the beginning, I wasn't sure why you wanted to have them around so much, always complaining how useless they were. J.A.R.V.I.S. seemed like your natural extension, and he has proven himself extremely useful, but the bots were like a science project gone wrong, yet you were too sentimental to toss 'em."

Tony stiffened, and Steve's fingers shifted, rubbing circles that were probably supposed to soothe his ire.

"Then the aliens attacked and you lost your sight. You would have lost your way, too, if not for the bots. Even when you didn't accept help from us, you accepted it from them, and ever since then… they have protected you, and looked after you. They offer you comfort when you can't seem to let yourself welcome it from us, and they often seem to have better luck at communicating things to you than we do. There are times when I envy them for that, but I know the two of us never really spoke the same language to begin with – yet it is frustrating that two machines without the ability to speak seem to have a greater understanding of who you are than I ever will."

"I built them," Tony shrugged, trying not to smile. "It stands to reason we have a rapport."

"But they're not human," Steve insisted.

"Humans are difficult, often on purpose."

Steve chuckled. "You think I'm difficult on purpose?"

"Well…" Tony could no longer contain the smile, and that must have been what Steve was waiting for, because he moved to offer Tony a final piece of clothing: a soft, warm, woolly hat to place on his head so that his bare scalp and the implants wouldn't freeze.

Tony fussed with the hat for a bit, then felt Steve move to his side and slide his right arm down Tony's left, indicating that he would be leading him forward. Tony accepted it, curling his hand around Steve's elbow, letting him know that he was ready to move.

When the war started, he and Steve hadn't argued as much. There had been no time for it, and no energy left to spare in between planning and fighting – and in Tony's case, developing means to both attack the aliens and sustain life on Earth when their water source became contaminated and the industry was partially crippled in many areas due to alien attacks.

After Tony could no longer see, it felt like his relationship with the entire team slowly morphed into something else, and no matter how much independence he had gained with the activation of the implants, it felt like there was no going back from the shift in the team's dynamic.

If there ever came a day when he could see again… Tony wasn't sure what would happen to that new dynamic. He already knew he didn't like thinking about the possibility of losing the rather intimate closeness with the others. It was a selfish thought, he knew that, but he liked to at least pretend that helping and safeguarding him had given the team as a whole a new purpose and a sense of unity they hadn't had before.

Whether they needed a cripple in their midst to bring out the kind of cohesion they have been experiencing lately…

"Watch your step," Steve said quietly. "Tree line ahead."

Tony nodded in affirmation but couldn't do much about it. He needn't have worried, though: Steve guided him past trees and bushes, warning him about traps like pointy tree roots and stones; Tony could hear frozen branches dragging against the vibranium shield, and every now and then a soft _whoosh_ of snow falling down, but not once did a branch hit his face or snow fall on top of him. It was slow going, but Steve did not complain or suggest Tony stay behind while he could go out to scout.

Knowing how he felt about being left behind, Tony did not suggest it either, even though he knew they would have proceeded much faster that way.

Every now and then, something flew through the air. Tony suspected they were enemy aircrafts because Steve didn't try to get their attention. A couple times they halted and crouched down, and Tony was extremely conscious of how Steve hovered above him, shielding Tony with his body as well as his shield. Without his ability to see, Tony could hardly complain or move in a way that would enable him to hide himself.

Tony began shivering before long, even though he wasn't as cold as he probably should have been; thank Extremis for small miracles, and the clothes Steve had thoughtfully grabbed for him to wear in a situation where he should have been more concerned with the falling Quinjet.

Considering the time that must have passed, Tony was fairly certain that night had fallen. The woodland around them was silent, save for the occasional cracks of trees and distant sounds of engines. There was no familiar sound of the armor thrusters, however, and it began filling Tony with concern.

"How far do you think we are from the others?" Tony asked.

"Hard to say," Steve replied. "Clint and Natasha didn't jump that long before us, and the Quinjet was starting to tilt back the way we came as it fell…"

Tony wished they had a flare or something, to signal their position – or at least an operating comm. Any sign sent out for their fellow Avengers would mean drawing the enemy fire, though, and he knew why Steve hadn't explored that option.

Walking in a snowy forest was hard work, exhausting Tony faster than he'd thought it would. It also drew most of his focus into what he was doing, not leaving him with a whole lot of extra concentration to worry about the bots, the other Avengers, or his AI. Well, he wasn't really worried about J.A.R.V.I.S., who would be just fine until they found a way to contact him again.

They hit rockier terrain and the ground began to go steeply downhill. Tony slipped a few times, and only Steve's fast reflexes kept him from tumbling down to whatever depths awaited them below. It was possible it was a ridiculously small stretch of downhill, but without being able to see, even a minor dip in the landscape became a terrifying obstacle.

Steve hesitated and stopped, and Tony stood still, toes prickling a little at the cold seeping in from the frozen earth. "I don't think you can walk safely from here," Steve observed.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek, trying to rein in his pride. "Can we go around?"

"Not without wasting a whole lot of time and energy." It wasn't his own stamina Steve was worried about, of course, and Tony knew this was not a time to boast that he wasn't so easily tired.

"And this is the way you think we should go?" Tony guessed.

"I'm pretty sure I saw a flash of light that could be Thor, War Machine, or your armor. It is also in the direction I would think the others are."

Tony hesitated – although not really, because he already knew what he was going to say next. Being blind and depending on others had slowly taught him not to speak his mind when it might do him a disservice. After all, none of these people were obligated to do a single thing for him. "You already have a plan, don't you?" Tony said then. "Just say it, Cap. My toes are freezing."

He could feel the other man's eyes on him, no doubt giving him one of those concerned and annoyed looks Tony was so familiar with. Steve often accused him of being dishonest and secretive, holding onto facts that he should have shared, according to whatever code Steve liked to follow. Apparently it would make things 'easier' if he changed that. Tony rarely abided by his wishes, too used to playing things close to his chest.

"I'm fine," Tony reassured the other man. "I'm not about to freeze to death, but I would rather keep moving than stand still, so if you have a way out of this, spill it."

"I could carry you," Steve said slowly, wording it like a suggestion when it really wasn't one. It only went to show that Steve had learned the best way to make Tony do something – or any smart, full-of-themselves person – was to make them think the idea was their own and thus something worth considering.

Tony frowned. "That's your big plan? Just give me your shield and I'll slide down the hill."

"And brain yourself on a tree?" Steve scoffed. "Not likely."

Tony pursed his lips and shifted his right left foot to test the ground again. They were wasting time, but he didn't want to sink so low that he needed to be carried around –

A familiar bleep carried across the quiet land, and Tony perked up at the sound of it, his heart beating a little faster. He knew Steve heard it, too, and the man made the tactical choice not to say anything while Tony battled his pride and his instinct to go and seek out the origin of the sound.

"Fine," he snapped. "As long as we go towards the bots."

Steve made an affirmative noise and moved in front of Tony, crouching down. It took Tony a moment to understand what he was supposed to do, then he reached out with his arms and found Steve's shoulders, clumsily moving so that Steve could lift him up piggyback style.

The shield got in the way a bit, so eventually Tony made a grabby motion and Steve handed the shield to him. It took some struggling with the straps, but Tony managed to sling it on one arm while still firmly holding onto Steve, and then they took off, a lot faster than Tony had anticipated.

Steve wasn't running, but he probably looked a lot like a mountain goat going down a steep hillside, surefooted even with the extra load on his back. Of course, it was possible they weren't moving fast at all, but it felt a lot like falling all over again to Tony, who just clung to Steve and tried not to hinder his movements too much.

It didn't take as long as falling from the Quinjet. Tony could feel it when they reached horizontal ground again, and Steve halted, crouching a bit to indicate Tony could get off his back.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Steve asked him once Tony was on his own feet again and pulling the shield off his arm.

"I'm just glad no one was around to see it," Tony stated.

"I know you feel helpless, but really, it doesn't mean –"

"Don't," Tony cut him off. "You would be the same in my position. Worse, probably."

Steve made a sound of assent; for him, it hadn't been all that long since he was a weakling aspiring to do things his physique simply didn't allow. In that respect, he probably understood Tony's dilemma better than the rest of their team.

Tony reached out for Steve's arm again, and once it was offered to him, they set off in the direction of the noise they had heard. Not long after they began walking, another bleep reached their ears – louder this time. Tony tried walking faster, but it only ended in a bruised ankle when he hit it on a frozen branch and almost twisted it on top of that, so he had to be content with the pace Steve set and follow his lead.

Once upon a time, Tony would have thought Steve would enjoy a moment like this, where he got to dictate how fast and in which direction Tony moved, but this wasn't a power struggle and they both knew it.

They drew closer to the origin of the sound, and Tony tried not to dread what they would find. With the bots pretty much falling down from the plane, slowed down by a couple parachutes and unable to control their landing, it was possible the end result wasn't pretty. One of them was making noise, though, and the closer they got without actually finding them, the more tempted he was to ask Steve to just pick him up again and start running towards them.

With one last stumble through thick bushes, leafless and scratchy in their frozen state, there was a rather cheery mechanical chirp and Tony knew they were finally close enough for the bot to see them.

"It's Dummy," Steve told him. "He's fine, although a bit tangled in his parachutes. Looks like he landed somewhere else and made his way over here."

"Any sign of You?" Tony asked.

As if on cue, there came a faint beep – from above. Tony frowned and craned his neck, but obviously he could not see anything.

"Huh," Steve hummed.

"What?" Tony asked, wanting facts.

"You is stuck in a tree."

Of all the possible scenarios, that wasn't one Tony had entertained in his mind, yet now that it was placed in his brain, he wondered how he hadn't considered it. "But he's okay?" he asked.

"He's moving," Steve confirmed and led them forward still, until Tony felt Dummy's touch on his hand.

"Hey, buddy," Tony greeted and abandoned Steve's arm, allowed his cold hands to travel down Dummy's form instead, to find the remnants of the parachutes. It was more than just the parachutes, though: it seemed Dummy had been dragging them across the forest and attached many a branch to his tangled collection. How he had made it through the snow with the parachutes slowing him down and getting stuck in every imaginable obstacle, Tony didn't know.

You made another sound and Tony looked up, wishing he could somehow comfort the bot in his predicament.

Dummy made a much louder sound, and Tony shushed him sharply. "You'll attract enemies, idiot," he admonished, although softly, trying to pull at the mess of canvas and suspension lines.

The soft sound of a switchblade opening reached his ears. "Let me," Steve volunteered, and while Tony was tempted to say he could do it himself, he would most likely end up cutting himself at least a few times.

Steve made relatively quick work of the trap Dummy had got himself into, and once the bot was free and rolling around, enjoying his freedom, they stopped to consider You's dilemma.

"Is he in danger of falling down?" Tony asked. He hated not being able to see, and he was tempted to ask Steve to hand him the light helmet in order to fix that.

"If he keeps moving around much more, possibly. He's tangled up pretty good, but he's hanging upside-down and I know he isn't exactly lightweight."

You let out a sad sound much like an apology, and Tony tilted his head. "Can you climb up and release him?"

"He's about thirteen feet in the air. Do you think he can survive the fall?"

Tony grimaced. "Let's try not to do that," he decided.

"I could go up and see whether loosening some of the suspension lines will lower him closer to the ground," Steve offered.

"Sounds like a plan," Tony agreed.

He heard Steve take a couple steps, snow crunching as he moved, but before Steve got to the tree, there was a much louder sound and You positively whimpered up in the tree.

"What's happening?" Tony asked, alarmed.

"Hulk!" announced the Hulk as he plowed in through the trees. Tony didn't need to see it in order to comprehend what was happening – and then there was a loud _snap_ of frozen wood and You let out a shrill scream.

Tony froze, not knowing which way to go, but even though there was a sound of a falling tree coming from above him, nothing ultimately crashed on top of him – other than a shower of snow that made him shiver and sputter as some of it managed to get inside his jacket.

"Hulk find Tony," the Hulk informed him – also from above him, and then the rage monster let out a grunt and the tree was obviously being shifted and tossed to the side.

You let out another sound of protest, and Dummy chimed in, snapping loudly at someone.

"Careful," Steve ordered. "One of the bots is tangled in that tree."

The Hulk huffed and moved. There was a sound of branches snapping, canvas tearing, and then a long, dubious whistle from You. "Robot free," the Hulk proclaimed. "Bots not belong in trees," he added, as if they had been fools to think otherwise.

"Thanks," Tony said, even though he wasn't completely certain what had just happened.

Dummy shifted beside him, and then there was the sound of the other bot rolling closer to them and Tony reached out, feeling You's claws brush against his fingers.

"Any sign of the others?" Steve asked while Tony tried to check the bots over for damage.

The Hulk grunted, which wasn't really an answer.

"We need to regroup," Steve pressed.

"Aliens gone," the Hulk replied. "Hulk smashed aliens." He cracked his knuckles.

"They'll be back," Tony warned. "We need to find the team and get to safety. Somewhere less cold, preferably."

"Hulk not cold."

"Well, I am," Tony retorted.

The Hulk hummed. "Build fire, get warm – signal team."

"It will also signal the aliens," Steve warned.

"Smash any aliens that come," was the Hulk's reply.

"You've been smashing a lot today," Tony reminded the green goliath. "You'll get tired, too, and if the aliens get back-up, we're screwed."

"Get back in the suit," the Hulk suggested. Whether he thought that would be enough to beat a horde of aliens or simply a way to keep them safe, Tony didn't know.

"I don't know where my suit is," Tony admitted.

The Hulk huffed.

"He's pointing," Steve informed Tony. "I think he saw at least one of the others, after all."

"Then we have a heading," Tony said.

They had about half their team together, so it shouldn't be too hard to find the rest.

 _to be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5: Error - Trial

**Chapter 5: Error / Trial**

* * *

 **Day 189 of the Alien-Human War**

They stayed at Los Alamitos for the next few days, recuperating from the recent battle and, in the case of some members of their team, giving old injuries time to heal some more.

Once Rhodey was awake and back to being his grumpy self when it came to resting in order to heal – really, he was worse than Tony when he felt like his time would be better spent somewhere else – Tony proceeded to find himself a lab space and began to work through the bits and pieces of data he had about what had occurred on the battlefield.

He spent hours theorizing possible reasons for its origin and the alternative outcomes based on those ideas. Normally, in order to verify and study an event, it was best if it could be replicated, but he wasn't sure how to achieve that in this case.

Stress must have been a factor; a real life-and-death circumstance. It was nigh impossible to get into that same stage artificially, and his injuries may have been a factor, as well as Rhodey being in danger.

Unless he was going to replicate that situation and all of its unique components, there might not be a way to recreate the outcome and thus no chance to study it and comprehend its mechanics and future usability.

Tony sighed, displeased with the odds he was facing. He could not bend facts to his will – no matter how much he had come to hope for salvation after considering the opportunity so unexpectedly set before him.

If only he could reach it, somehow…

There was a possibility that the reaction from Extremis had been cut short; had Tony allowed it to continue, perhaps Extremis would have finished the job of healing his eyes which it had failed before. Maybe it was not enough to light a match: he needed to throw gasoline on the fire in order to create a blaze.

It was not the first time he missed the light helmet since the battle; if he'd had access to the artificial sight, he could have conducted tests more easily. As it was, he mostly communicated with J.A.R.V.I.S., using his hearing and mind's eye to follow their progress. The lab space was hardly adequate, but it was the best he had been able to commandeer from the military. He would have loved to get some real-time data of the last stretch of the battle, too, but both Mark 52 and War Machine had been rendered inoperable by that point so there was nothing but his own vague memories to go by.

"Fight-or-flight is jump-started by the sympathetic nervous system. Pituitary gland and adrenal medulla play key roles in their secretion of ACTH and epinephrine… Replace gasoline with adrenaline and we might have us a bonfire," he decided.

 _"Sir?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. questioned, sounding like he felt he was being left out of the loop.

"Find out if there are any medical supplies at the base," Tony ordered.

 _"Indeed, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. responded with barely a pause.

"Where is the closest?"

 _"Down the corridor."_

"Do they have undiluted epinephrine in stock?"

 _"Accessing database,"_ the AI informed him.

Tony waited, as patiently as he could.

 _"Epinephrine located in stock, but for that you'll have to go to another building,"_ the AI finally reported his findings.

"Is it accessible to the bots?"

 _"I believe so, sir."_

"Tell them where to find it and they can guide me there," Tony decided.

 _"Should we inform someone of your intentions?"_ Which was one way for J.A.R.V.I.S. to try and tell him he suspected Tony had a potentially hazardous plan in mind.

"No," Tony refused. "It might not work. And we need to get our ingredients first, anyway."

 _"It may not be wise to cause any kind of fire – metaphoric or otherwise,"_ the AI cautioned.

"Where would mankind be without the invention of fire?" Tony challenged and reached out, feeling one of the bots rise to touch his hand shortly after. The familiar whirs and clicks calmed him as he prepared to be led around by his mechanical seeing-eye dogs. Before he did so, he reached into his pocket for an earpiece and carefully slipped it in his ear, just in case the bots got lost and J.A.R.V.I.S. needed to relay information to Tony directly.

"Alright, let's go," he said once he was ready, and the bot beneath his hand started moving forward.

Tony remembered a rough layout of the lab and opened the door for them, then walked a bit slower once they were outside. The bots didn't hesitate: they rolled forward steadily, found the door leading outside, guiding Tony through it, and then they crossed the yard to another building, coming upon another door. This time Tony had to figure out how to open it, but it was not locked and they got inside without incident, the bots turning left after passing through the door and going down a hall until they must have reached their destination.

 _"You are at the medicine storage, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. notified him through the earpiece.

Feeling around, Tony found a door, but the handle would not budge.

 _"The lock requires an access card,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. stated. _"I shall override the system."_

As he waited, Tony ran his hand along the edge of the door and found the small box that was most likely the reader connected to the lock. He checked its shape with his fingertips until he heard a tiny electronic _beep_ and moved his hand back to the handle, finding it responsive this time. "Thanks," he murmured.

 _"Happy to help,"_ his AI replied.

Tony moved carefully past the bot that had previously guided him and walked into the cool air of the storage room. He ran his hands along the walls and shelves, shuffling his feet in order to avoid stumbling on anything that might be blocking his path. Back in the doorway, he could hear the bots follow him in, their noises amplified in the confined space.

"Find something that says epinephrine on the label," Tony ordered. "I hope these things are alphabetized…"

Once again he would have been thankful for the helmet, but he could not read labels even if he had it. Not well enough to make out such fine print, anyway. He would have to take that into consideration in the next model. Mostly he just needed to make J.A.R.V.I.S. understand the difference between human vision and the artificial options they had already been using, and then see whether it was possible to replicate biological eyesight that would actually enable him to see things as they were.

Of course, if he managed to trigger Extremis into healing his eyes, none of that would matter.

By the sound of it, the bots were rummaging around in the storage, in search of the label Tony had ordered them to find. There were no distinct sounds of items crashing to the floor, and Tony was hopeful their trip might go without notice if there was no trail of destruction to follow back to his work space; it wasn't that his experiment would have to be kept a secret, but he knew a lot of people would tell him it was unwise to go to such extreme measures, even if they knew of the brief event on the battlefield.

They would tell Tony to _be patient_ and _think it through_ , but he had been waiting for months to see the light at the end of the tunnel and he was not about to let this theory go untested.

A sharp chirp from one of the bots drew his attention: he could hear a claw scraping against cardboard and moved towards the sound, hoping that it wasn't a false alarm.

He bumped into one of the bots on his way towards the sound, and the bot in question – he was fairly sure it was Dummy – backed away with an apologetic whir and collided with another shelf in the limited space. Tony wedged himself past the bot and over to You, whose arm he followed until he got to the box the bot was trying to remove from the shelf where it was tightly wedged between other boxes.

"J, do you have eyes on this?" Tony asked.

 _"Tilt the label toward U's camera,"_ the AI requested through his earpiece.

Tony removed the box from the shelf and hoped the bot did the rest because he had no idea which way he was holding the box.

 _"The box contains 25 ampules of 1:1000 epinephrine for subcutaneous or intramuscular injection,"_ the AI confirmed.

"Just what the doctor ordered," Tony decided and turned back towards the door. "Find some needles while you're at it, boys."

 _"Speaking of doctors,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said, _"perhaps it would be wise to consult someone before you proceed with whatever plan you have in mind, sir."_

"You remember the thing about running before you can walk?" Tony asked.

 _"Vividly, sir."_

"This is just like that."

 _"With all due respect, to me it seems like running before you can even crawl…"_

"Beggars can't be choosers," Tony dismissed his AI's protest. He knew why J.A.R.V.I.S. was telling him this was potentially a bad idea – primary functions and all that – but caution had never been Tony's specialty and if there was a way to dig his way out of the persistent darkness of blindness…

"What size needle is best for intramuscular injection?" Tony asked, to fill the silence.

 _"20 or 22 gauge, in the length of an inch or an inch and a half,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied almost instantly, sounding like he didn't want to but knowing better than to ignore Tony.

"Dummy, You: look for those numbers," Tony told the bots. His instructions were followed by beeps and whirs – and a few colliding sounds that made Tony cringe. He could hear the bots moving about, craning their arms up and down, scanning the shelves. Eventually, there came another affirmative bleep much like before and Tony moved towards it, finding one of the bots already holding a box. "Is that it?" he asked, feeling it over.

 _"It is suitable,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him, _"although you still require filter needles in order to safely draw the epinephrine from the ampules."_

"That's right," Tony recalled. "This is getting complicated."

 _"Which is why, perhaps, you should not be doing it unsupervised."_

"You and the bots are with me."

 _"That hardly qualifies."_

One of the bots let out a sharp whistle, and Tony swore he could hear J.A.R.V.I.S. sigh.

 _"DUM-E has located filter needles and a larger, 30 milliliter syringe."_

"How much is in one ampule of epinephrine?"

 _"1 milliliter."_

"Alright, so, let me just grab those last two things…"

 _"And alcohol wipes,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. added to the list.

You was helpful enough to locate those, and by the time they had everything, Tony had his hands full with boxes and packages. It took some organizing because he needed at least one of his hands free in order to be led around, and the bots each took one item off his hands, allowing him to settle a hand on Dummy's arm and start the journey back to the lab.

They got there without being stopped or questioned. Tony didn't hear other people, either, and he wondered whether there had been a call for an evacuation. He was positive J.A.R.V.I.S. would have informed him of any danger other than the one he was possibly subjecting himself to, though, and so he was simply relieved he didn't have to explain himself to anyone on the way back.

Once in the lab, he locked the door, then organized the items on the table and slowly began to open the boxes, feeling his way around each item. It helped that he had a general idea of what he was holding, and what they were supposed to look like.

 _"Could we at least ask Dr. Banner to come join us?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked as Tony arranged the ampules on the table next to the pile of alcohol wipes.

"Nope," Tony refused. "We're going to keep this experiment just between us." He halted in between unwrapping one of the syringes. "I mean it, J. Not a peep to anyone before I say so."

 _"Very well, sir."_

Tony could hear it in J.A.R.V.I.S.'s tone that the AI wanted to rebel and go against his orders, but it was not something he had been programmed to do. Up to a point, he could make independent decisions, but going against an express order was yet to happen. Tony knew it was possible, within the virtual perimeters they had been building – and modifying – over the years, and if push came to shove…

He kept on going, setting down the syringe, making sure he had needles ready for it – one with a filter and another one for injection – before moving back to recount the ampules and their position on the table, the alcohol wipes, the box he had set aside to serve as the trash. He then returned to the needles and the syringe.

Connecting the filter needle to the syringe was not as much of a struggle as he had thought it would be: he connected the pieces and kept rotating the needle within its cover until it was tightly attached to the syringe.

"Okay," he said, taking a steadying breath, and slowly took one of the alcohol wipes, opened the package, then folded it a bit before gripping the first ampule by its slender neck, twisting sharply to break it off. The first effort was a bit clumsy, but he got the ampule open and set it down carefully, reaching out for the syringe. He removed the needle cover and rotated the item in his hand until he could use his fingers to feel where the needle was going, and then picked up the opened ampule and made the first attempt to get the needle into the small vial.

It shouldn't have surprised him that was easier said than done, and he probably ended up breaching most of the safety instructions by the time he got the needle in and carefully shifted his fingers to pull back the syringe's plunger, hopefully drawing out the medicine inside the ampule.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., tell me when the ampule's almost empty," Tony ordered.

 _"You should start tilting the ampule after a few seconds, for maximum intake,"_ the AI instructed.

"Okay," Tony murmured, and after counting to four he tilted the hand holding the ampule, simultaneously attempting to angle the needle.

 _"The needle is drawing in air. You need to lower it,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him.

Tony tried to follow instructions, and it felt like forever until J.A.R.V.I.S. deemed they were not getting any more of the medicine drawn out of the ampule, so Tony pulled back the needle and held it upright, wondering how he was going to push out the excess air – of which he suspected there was a lot – without squirting out most of the epinephrine at the same time.

He ended up placing a dry finger against the needle's tip and pushed the plunger up until he felt liquid against his hand.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he mused.

 _"Only 24 more to go, if you intend to drain all the ampules,"_ his AI commented.

"I do," Tony said, a bit mulishly even to his own ears, and set the empty ampule down in the cardboard trash box before setting down the needle, grabbing another ampule and starting from the beginning.

By the time he was nearing the finish line, he had stabbed himself with the needle multiple times, had tilted a few of the ampules far enough to pour some of the medicine straight out, and was feeling frustrated. More than once J.A.R.V.I.S. had suggested that he just ask for assistance from someone capable of seeing what they were doing, but Tony had come this far and wasn't about to let his AI subtly sabotage his revolutionary idea at jump-starting Extremis. After all, he doubted the person he might find and ask for assistance would refrain from asking questions and instead begin suspecting he was about to do something dangerous. No one could possibly think he needed a box of epinephrine for one of his suits, especially when he had none hanging around.

"How much did I manage to get into the syringe?" he finally asked as he squeezed the last of the air out of it and then spent a while sucking on his bleeding fingertips before removing the needle and replacing it with the other one.

 _"21.4 milliliters, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

"Huh," Tony hummed, surprised by his own success. "That's pretty good for a blind guy."

 _"Indeed, sir."_ There was a pause, but Tony could tell the question was coming before it did: _"What are you planning on doing with the epinephrine now that you have it?"_

"Using it," Tony said simply and set the syringe down. He felt tired from the drawn-out effort to obtain the drug and then make it usable, but he was determined to push forward and there was no time like the present. Maybe a little weariness and frustration would even prove helpful in raising his stress levels. "Dummy, You, I need the two of you to get out of here for the duration of the experiment."

The bots let out questioning sounds, as if they did not agree.

 _"They could stay and assist,"_ his AI noted.

"It might get messy, and I'm not going to have you get caught in it if things get a little… hot." That was his intention, after all. "Come on," he urged and walked to the door, twisting the lock and pushing the door wide open. "Out you go, boys. Don't make me tell you twice."

He almost had to, because the bots came to the door and then stopped, protesting again, but Tony motioned towards the outside and finally the bots rolled past him.

Tony wasted no time closing the door again and locking it, just in case. The bots were stubborn sometimes – and over-protective when Tony couldn't see – and he didn't want them to sustain damage if worse came to worst.

After all, he had seen what an unstable Extremis could do, and the way he had tinkered with his own over the years…

"J.A.R.V.I.S., feel free to shut down if you want to," Tony said as he sat down by the desk and slowly worked his shirt up and over his head, baring his upper body.

 _"My files are saved in multiple offsite locations, should something go wrong here,"_ the AI said by way of reply.

"I'm expecting things to heat up if they go the way I want them to," Tony said and slowly picked up the needle. His heart rate picked up right alongside the motion, and he felt nervous. If something went wrong – really wrong – there might be no coming back from this. But at the same time, what was there to lose? Sooner or later, being unable to see would get him killed. That was inevitable.

If he got killed searching for a solution, that was his choice.

With a steadying breath that really didn't steady his hand at all, he uncapped the needle and shifted it in his hold, aiming it towards his upper arm. He was clumsy and slow to determine whether he was even close to hitting his mark, but eventually he decided to just go for it – that with a dosage like this, it didn't really matter where he stuck it.

Closing his eyes, pretending that was why he could not see, he adjusted his grip on the syringe one last time, aligned it, and then pulled it towards his arm.

"Fuck!" he yelled as the needle sank in with less coordination than when someone else was doing it, or even when he did it to himself when he could still see. His arm throbbed, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the needle just a bit further, telling himself the pain would eventually subside.

His left arm was tense when the needle finally could go no further, and Tony carefully shifted his hold so that he could get his thumb to the plunger without dislodging the syringe; he wasn't sure he had the willpower to do this again if the needle pulled out.

As he stilled, thumb on the plunger, he momentarily listened to his own breaths, loud and unsteady, pain hissing past his teeth. _Man up_ , he told himself, then tried to relax his left arm before he started pushing the plunger down, the drug being squeezed into his body through the needle.

For a little bit it barely burned more than it already did from the needle. There was a mild sensation of pressure mounting in his arm – then in his chest, like the pressure in the room was changing, squeezing his insides, making breathing difficult. His heart didn't seem to beat any faster, as if it could barely cope with the sudden pressure within his veins.

Knowing something was sure to happen soon, Tony pushed harder against the plunger, forcing the rest of the epinephrine into his body before pulling the needle back with a gasp of relief, the syringe falling down as his grip on it faltered.

 _"Sir?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. questioned.

Tony couldn't speak. He could barely breathe as it was, and the pressure was growing unbearable, making it feel like his insides were about to burst. It may have been stress that made his heart beat faster and skin heat up, but he prayed it was Extremis instead, responding to the stimulus.

As the pressure mounted, he started losing sensation in the farthest reaches of his body: his fingers and toes tingled and suddenly he could not trust his limbs to hold him up or support him anymore, even in the seated position.

A smaller dose would have worked, he knew. A smaller dose would not have been enough to kill him…

For months, Extremis had failed to heal him while keeping him alive and functioning. It had helped him survive the implant insertion, and ultimately peaked in protecting his life on the battlefield. To actually push it to the limit, Tony was certain it took more than cautious measures, and even if he overshot the mark by miles, he refused to later find himself regretting that he hadn't pushed harder.

He was going to give it his all and by God, if it was not enough…

The heat spread through him as if someone had just cracked open a miniature sun within him. It was overwhelming and all-encompassing, stealing his breath and his presence of mind, shoving him into that special state of shock where everything froze into place in his brain.

He lost his grasp on what was happening around him for what may have been seconds or minutes. When he began regaining awareness, though, he could see through a sheen of glowing, vibrant red that the world was on fire and he most certainly wasn't breathing in air in the midst of the billowing smoke.

The pressure inside his skull transformed into pure heat, and for an instant before it all vanished again Tony couldn't be sure whether or not his brain was getting fried from the inside in a way he absolutely hadn't intended.

* * *

 **Day 177 of the Alien-Human War**

In the mountainous, snowy terrain, walking was difficult – especially if you couldn't see where you were going, or were supposed to be rolling around on four tires.

Five minutes after they left the small clearing where the bots had been found, the Hulk began to grow increasingly frustrated. It didn't sound like Bruce was coming back but more like the Hulk was contemplating dashing off, and that was potentially worse since Bruce was going to emerge eventually and they didn't need him to be stranded in the middle of the Oregon wilderness when that happened.

"What's wrong, big guy?" Tony called out, trying to focus on Steve's arm beneath his grip and the faint hints it was giving him about the terrain.

The Hulk let out a mighty huff. "You're slow," he grumbled.

"Newsflash, big guy: I'm blind," Tony snapped back. He knew the Hulk was aware of that fact, but sometimes he was a big, inconsiderate brute… "Besides, the bots can't travel much faster out here."

The Hulk stopped, as did Steve, and for a moment Tony worried the green goliath was going to lash out with all the pent-up frustration and weariness left over from the battle. That fear was further increased by the shrill sounds from the bots, and Tony stiffened, then stepped forward despite not seeing a thing. He had dragged the bots all the way here; he _had_ to protect them.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, aware of how sharp his voice was getting. He had a theory that showing the Hulk your fear was not a good idea, especially if you were trying to tell him what to do, but he was long past the point where he could fake confidence.

"Hulk carries robots," the Hulk stated. "Carry Tony, too. Find team faster – and suit," he added, as if finding Mark 52 was the magical answer to all their problems.

"Uh," Tony started.

"It's not a bad idea," Steve dared to state from his side, quick as lightning. "We don't know how much time we have, and like you said, the bots are not designed for terrain like this." He tactically left it unsaid that Tony, too, was unsuited for traversing the current landscape.

Tony allowed his pride and sense of practicality battle it out for a moment. By the sound of it, the Hulk hadn't lowered the bots back to the ground, and the longer he took to make up his mind, the less patient the Hulk would be.

"The big guy has his hands full with the bots," Tony finally said. "I don't want him to drop one of them if he's carrying me, too."

The Hulk snorted, clearly not seeing any such problems, but then, he wasn't always the gentlest around others and could accidentally cause harm to those he tried to help.

"We need to move faster," Tony agreed before the Hulk could come up with a verbal reply – or take off, with or without the bots. "I can't see where I'm going and I doubt it's going to get any easier from here on out. We need to find the others as soon as possible."

"Then what do you want to do?" Steve asked.

Tony turned his head towards the sound of his voice. "Feel like giving me another piggyback ride?" He wished he could have seen Steve's expression, to be able to predict his reaction to the query before he said anything. Becoming blind had made him more patient out of necessity, but it was rarely easy to be forced to wait.

"Sure," Steve said, and Tony heard and felt him move, adjusting something. "Can you carry this on your back?" he asked soon after and handed a bag to Tony, which contained all their possessions – including the light helmet. Tony shouldered it and then waited, sensing Steve moving in front of him. "Hop on," the other man said soon after, and Tony felt out with his hands, finding Steve crouched to a comfortable level in front of him.

It felt awkward, still, not seeing what he was doing, and Steve ended up hoisting him up after Tony had sort of clambered onto his back. There was much more shifting than the first time – probably because they were planning on a more drawn-out trip – but eventually Tony was mildly comfortable, thighs hugging Steve's waist while the super-soldier carried most of his weight by supporting his lower buttocks. Tony got to hold the shield again, and he tried not to bump it against anything as he supported his arms on Steve's shoulders.

"Ready?" the Hulk asked.

When Steve did not reply, Tony guessed the question was directed at him. "Yup."

The Hulk grunted and started moving. The bots let out faint bleeps, and Tony held his tongue against asking the Hulk to be careful with them.

Steve started moving, too, and Tony soon decided not feeling the ground with his own feet made traveling a dizzying, scary adventure. He had always enjoyed speed and the pull of g-forces, and later, with the suits, the game of gravity and free-fall twisting his insides in a way no amusement park ride could provide. Those things had been under his own control, though, and being robbed of the ability to see his surroundings didn't make it easier, just like when they had been falling from the plane. Hanging onto Steve was much the same; he could feel his motions, but he could not predict what would happen next.

They remained in the woods for most of their journey. Tony could tell because every now and then a branch brushed against him, or a shower of snow landed on top of him despite Steve's attempts to steer clear of them. The sounds of frozen wood cracking marked their progress, and more than once it sounded like the Hulk had kicked over an entire tree to clear the path.

Tony had expected everyone to be in agreement on stealth being of the essence, but clearly Hulk either didn't get the memo or was too tired to care. Steve started reprimanding the green goliath, but he never quite finished and eventually just let it go, knowing just like Tony that they couldn't afford to piss off the Hulk in their current situation.

And, in the end, the noise the Hulk was making may have worked in their favor:

"We could hear you from two miles away," Natasha's voice rang out from somewhere on their left.

"And see how well that worked out to bring us together," Tony quipped, just to be part of the conversation; he had started to get cold soon after Steve began carrying him, and even moving his lips was a welcome change to sitting still and trying to conceal the chattering of his teeth.

"Any sign of the others?" Steve asked as he bowed down slightly. Tony took it as a hint to get off his back and welcomed the chance to warm up. He handed Steve his shield back so that he could properly rub his arms to get the circulation working again.

"We thought we might have heard something up north, but it was further off than you," Clint reported.

"Could have been the enemy, too," Natasha guessed.

The Hulk muttered something about smashing, but with less enthusiasm than usual; he had to be tired and aching for a break, just like the rest of them. Tony heard the bots making soft beeps, then it sounded like they were lowered onto the ground, and soon enough the two of them were making their way over to him.

"We need to speed things up," Tony said when no one else spoke. "The longer we spend walking around, looking for clues, the more chances the aliens have to regroup and start hunting us down."

"We need a plan," Natasha agreed.

It was obvious they were all waiting for Steve to speak, but he did not.

Tony frowned, wishing he could see in order to determine whether Steve was still in the middle of laying out a plan or simply refusing to make a decision. It wasn't like him, to avoid making the hard call, but Tony also knew _why_ he would hesitate.

"Cap?" Tony called out. "Any thoughts?"

"We need to find the rest of the team, as fast as possible. Sending a signal would be like a homing beacon for friend and foe alike."

"So, we need to go looking for them," Tony summed up. "Only, we're moving too slow as it is – which is why we need to split up."

"No," Steve refused at once.

"You know the bots and I are slowing the rest of you down," Tony went on, not caring about how it sounded as long as it was the truth.

"I am _not_ leaving you behind!" Steve snapped. The anger in his voice made Tony feel a bit warmer, oddly enough.

"It's a tactical decision. One of you can stay to hang around with me, but the rest of you should move out to locate our flying team members so that we'll have some air support on the way off the mountain."

"I'll stay with him," Clint volunteered. "Hulk's too fast and strong to waste on carrying duties, and if we move slowly, the rest of you will have an easier time locating us again once you've found the others."

Tony nodded. He would have thrown Clint a thankful look, but he wasn't sure where exactly he was standing.

"I don't like this," Steve said.

"But it's the call you would make if you didn't feel responsible for my wellbeing," Tony pressed. "I don't need to remind you that we're at war – a war we're losing if we don't man up and do what we're supposed to. Bringing the team together is the most important thing right now – not playing my seeing-eye dog. Clint will be my eyes and ears until you've located Rhodey, Thor, and my armor."

There was a soft intake of air and Tony imagined Steve opening his mouth to argue.

"We'll be fine," Clint threw in his two cents. "Find the others so that we can regroup and stop freezing our asses off out here."

Steve's sigh of defeat was strained, but Tony sensed he was giving up. "Keep him safe," Steve ordered Clint.

Tony raised an eyebrow – whether anyone was looking or not. "I'm debating putting on the helmet just to sock it to you…"

"No helmet," Steve immediately told him. "I'm serious, Tony. You need to let your brain rest."

"Then stop being a mother hen and _lead_ ," Tony ordered. "You won't find the others by putting my comfort first – and I don't want you to waste your time trying to, only to arrive at the same conclusion the rest of us have already reached."

No one argued, so either they agreed or didn't see the point in voicing dissident opinions.

"I stand by my words," Steve retorted. "Keep him safe," he said, obviously to Clint.

"I will," the archer promised.

"Don't use the helmet," Steve continued.

"I know my limits," was all Tony said, but Steve didn't draw it out so he must have decided it was the best he was going to get out of Tony.

The others divided their few supplies, leaving Clint with some extra clothes and tools to start a fire in case they had to make camp. Tony felt like pointing out that their missing teammates might also need the extra clothes, but he supposed it was likelier he and Clint would be needing them in case it took more than a few hours for his teammates to track the others down.

"Keep moving southwards," Natasha said to Clint before they parted ways. "Try to hit Route 62 and stay on it when you do."

"You'll probably catch us before we get that far," Clint replied. He didn't specify whether that was due to the slowness of his company or that he wished they would find the rest of their team quickly.

Once again, there were no drawn-out farewells: Steve didn't approach them for instructions or words of caution, and Tony listened to the sounds of them disappearing, the Hulk sprinting into a run while Steve and Natasha followed more quietly. Soon all that remained was the wind in the trees and the bots letting out small sounds of nervousness.

"So," Clint started. "Do you actually have a plan, other than looking for the main road?"

Tony blinked. "Let's start walking," he decided. Blindly, he thrust out his hand furthest from Clint, and heard one of the bots struggle to reach him.

"We'll move faster if I scout ahead and find the best path for you and the bots," the archer offered. "I won't go far," he added, as if he thought Tony feared he would abandon him.

"Let's get to it," Tony nodded and listened to Clint take off. He waited a moment before taking a step, and the bots moved to follow, one of them leading him through a maze of obstacles while the other clearly tried to navigate a path they could take. Considering how many times he walked into a tree, stumbled on a hidden trap in the snow or simply had to stop since the bot guiding him got stuck in the snow before Clint returned for the first time, he decided they were in for a long, painful journey until their team rejoined them.

 _to be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6: Lightning - Thunder

**Chapter 6: Lightning / Thunder**

* * *

 **Day 189 of the Alien-Human War**

"Tony…"

The deep voice was familiar, shifting the balance within the darkness from heavy uneasiness to a cocoon of comfort. It gave him a sense of calm and created a web of safety, banishing the illusion of fear and danger even when there wasn't necessarily any reason for either of those.

"Tony, you need to awaken," the voice insisted, piercing the darkness like sunlight fighting its way through a wall of fog.

He wasn't certain he wanted to comply, everything felt so heavy, but as he grew aware of that he also grew aware of himself. Still, it felt like too soon…

"Tony, you must come back to us," the voice continued calling, but that only served to make him feel afloat, the cocoon closing over him.

He could stay a while longer…

The sound of a distant beep fought its way to him, weak and far-away. It stirred something within him, though, and the cocoon shattered as the floodgates opened, his consciousness snapping back to full awareness.

"Easy," Thor murmured from his side.

Tony tried to move, the bot's faint call still echoing in his mind. His entire body felt like it had been wrapped in a cast, though, making his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He inhaled in order to try again, prompting his lungs to expand and burn as if he had breathed in acid instead of air. It made his entire body seize in distress, both at the pain and the impending fear of _not being able to breathe_ , which was an old issue for him. Before he could grow extremely alarmed, though, the pain suddenly receded – only to come back with a vengeance inside his head.

"Fuck," he gasped, afraid to speak in case that would prompt his lungs to act up again.

"Take your time," Thor told him. Tony had almost forgotten he was there.

Another beep reached his ears, and as far as he could tell, it wasn't one of distress as much as concern. It was joined by another, and he hoped it meant both bots were okay.

In the next minute and a half, his lungs continued to function normally whereas the pain in his head refused to relent. Thor and the bots remained quiet, and Tony eventually began to wonder if they had left – or had been there in the first place. All he could hear was a soft, continuous patter of raindrops falling, and each time one landed on his skin it felt like it cooled down something deep within him.

"Thor?" he called out finally, tired of counting seconds and raindrops.

"I am here," came an almost instant reply – and the soft pressure of a hand on his arm.

"Okay," he sighed and waited another forty seconds for his head to stop hurting, then gave up on that hope and started sitting up again. It was still hard to move his body, but little by little he got his upper body into an upright position. As feeling began to return to his body, Tony started to feel like he was sitting naked on the ground, seeing as he could feel the air on his skin – all of his skin – in addition to the rain.

"How are you feeling?" Thor asked.

"My head hurts," Tony admitted.

"Aye… That is to be expected," Thor mused.

Tony frowned and blinked. Nothing but darkness greeted him, and he tried to trace his way through recent events to sort out his memories. "What happened?" he asked finally. "Where are we?"

"You do not recall?" Thor questioned him in return.

"Well, I was…" He recalled the burn of epinephrine. "I was conducting a test. It may have gone awry."

"To put it mildly," the god of thunder stated solemnly. "We got word that you were in potential danger just seconds before the entire building exploded. Seeing as I could withstand the infernal heat better than the others, I came to find you. We are still in the center of the blast, since I was not certain if you had calmed down."

"Save for the hellfire gnawing at the insides of my skull, I'm good," Tony said. "Disappointed, but good."

"Whatever you were trying to accomplish…"

"Didn't J.A.R.V.I.S. tell you?" Tony asked, knowing his AI had been the one to alert the rest of the team.

"We were too busy trying to save the people in the vicinity of the blast to have him recount the entire tale," Thor explained.

Tony cringed. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"The last I spoke with the Captain, three people are dead and many others injured."

It felt like a large stone had just settled in his gut, making it hard to breathe and stopping him from digesting the news. He had seen what unstable Extremis was capable of, yet he had been more concerned with people trying to stop him than making sure he would not hurt anyone if things didn't work out the way he wanted.

"Is the team okay?" Tony had to ask. He was selfish to a fault, but if he had hurt them…

"The Avengers are well," Thor told him, "as are your bots."

"Thank God," Tony whispered and hung his head. Water trickled down the back of his neck, cool against his skin, making him shiver.

"Here," Thor said, and by the feel of it he had laid his cape around Tony's shoulders. There was a faint smell of burnt fibers, but apparently Asgardian garments could withstand combustion. "Do you feel like standing up?"

"I think I need a moment," Tony said. He could have tried getting to his feet, but the weight of his guilt still sat heavily on his shoulders and he was not sure he could shove it off just yet.

There was a faint scraping sound followed by the light thud of a weight settling down, and Tony felt Thor's shoulder brush against his through the cape. "Whilst I waited for you to awaken, I had time to think," Thor mused.

Tony lifted his head far enough to crane his neck, feeling the rain directly on his face. It was strange Thor had not just carried him to a shelter – then realized perhaps the rain was not a natural occurrence. He had seen Thor whip up a thunderstorm countless times, and rain often accompanied the lightning.

Also, rain was a good way to put out a fire…

"Think about what?" Tony asked slowly. Speaking did little to distract him from the pain in his head, but it was better than nothing.

"Many things," Thor started, and Tony rolled his eyes. Surprisingly, that wasn't as painful as he had thought it would be. "I wondered what drove you to do this to yourself, in secret."

"I thought you didn't know what I did," Tony challenged.

"The evidence is all around us. I have learned it is not always the actions but the outcome that matters."

Tony snorted. "This isn't the outcome I had in mind."

"Yet it is the one at which we have arrived," Thor pointed out.

Tony was silent for a moment, the pain persisting in his head. He was tempted to touch, to see if there was physical damage to feel out, but he was simultaneously afraid of what he might find. "You don't know what it's like," he finally said, to end the silence and distract himself anew. "To be stripped of one of your senses."

"That is true, but I know a little something of being stripped of one's honor."

"But this isn't honor!" Tony burst out. "This is not something you can regain, or restore. I'm blind, and it makes me weak. I can't stand it. I don't want to live with it. I've struggled for months, trying to adapt, trying to outsmart it, but with every win there's another drawback. I'm tired of stumbling around."

"I know you're frustrated –"

"It's not just that anymore," Tony cut him off. "In the last battle, something happened. For a moment, Extremis allowed me to see again, and all the struggles seemed amplified afterwards in comparison. I had to make it happen again. I had to make it permanent. All I had to do was find a way and I could remove this wretched darkness I've been trapped in."

Thor breathed out a slow exhalation, as if adopting one of Bruce's calming exercises. "It is true I have little experience with weakness," he admitted. "You are one of the strongest people I have ever met, to have come this far without your ability to see."

"But I am weak," Tony argued. "The helmet has a limit. Without it, I'm just a liability – something that slows the rest of you down and endangers everyone around me."

"It is a complication, for certain," Thor agreed. "One we could well do without." He laid a hand on Tony's shoulder before speaking again. "May I say something else?"

"Can I stop you?" Tony groused.

Thor chuckled, then sobered again. "As I said earlier, weakness is not something I have dabbled in, save for what I had to endure to rediscover my humility and honor. However, there is something else I understand very well: helplessness. As you are helpless without your sight, grasping for a way to end it, I have found myself helpless in the face of my own brother turning against me."

Tony hadn't expected the conversation to go that way, and it must have shown on his face.

"You might not think you and Loki have much in common, but I see your paths crossing many a time," Thor explained, his voice growing softer with emotion. "To this day, I am not certain when he lost his way, and how it could fuel such anger against his family and friends – his home and the people living there. Your struggle is much the same, and I fear it will poison you before long, as only desperation and bitterness can. I could not save Loki from becoming what he is today, but I want to save you."

Tony wasn't sure how to feel about that. "You wouldn't happen to have some magical solution back home?" he ventured to ask. May it mark the depth of his despair that he deigned to use the word 'magic' and not cringe at the very idea.

"Our science is much more advanced, that is true," Thor agreed. "I do not possess enough knowledge of it to know whether we could heal you, should I take you to Asgard – but I see a much more immediate need for my help, and that is to keep you from becoming infested by your despair and anger."

"I don't need you to save me," Tony told him and scrambled up to his feet, stubbornly maintaining his footing even as vertigo threatened to throw him back down. "I don't need anyone to save me."

"Yet you are hoping your science will provide an answer to your plight," Thor challenged. "If it does not, what will you do then?"

Tony took a sharp breath. "I'll end it," he said. "I won't –"

Before he could finish, there were arms wrapping themselves around him, his body being pressed into Thor's wide chest. Tony initially wanted to struggle and protest, because hadn't he just said he didn't want Thor's help? The fight bled out of him before he could master his ire, however, and what should have been an empty gesture of comfort with no true meaning began to weigh him down.

He felt tired; tired of struggling, fighting, and constantly trying to finding his footing, whether it was against the aliens or within his team. There was no escaping the fact that being blind made him weak. To this day, there was no certainty as to whether making him a target was a sign that the aliens feared him for a special reason. There was no guarantee he would ever see again – just like there was no knowing whether Earth and its people would survive this war.

"I know," Thor murmured, even though Tony was fairly certain he had not said a word out loud. It sounded like Thor knew all those doubts that plagued his heart, though, and forgave him.

Tony took a shuddery breath and leaned against Thor's body, allowing himself to be held for now, drawing strength from Thor's presence.

The rain slowly ceased, exhausting itself just as Tony felt the helpless anger flow away. He still felt the burning need to fix his sight, but it was returning to the level it had been before their last battle. He would keep working on it, waiting for all the pieces to fall into place, but until then…

"I'll try not to blow up a building due to a failed experiment in the future," he promised out loud.

Thor nodded, bearded jaw catching against Tony's temple. "Good," he mused.

"And I'll let you help me," Tony added, not specifying whether he meant the entire team or just Thor.

"Better," the god of thunder accepted it either way.

"I'm getting cold," Tony complained next. "I need to take a shower, see the bots, talk to J.A.R.V.I.S. – and probably let Bruce have a look at me."

It was time to face the music concerning his recent actions, and considering the pain in his head, he predicted that what they would have to tell him was unlikely to make him feel better.

One of Thor's arms moved from around him while the other remained wrapped around his waist. There was the telltale sound of Thor summoning Mjolnir to him, even the short distance from where he must have set the hammer down, and then he started walking, pulling Tony along. It wasn't the easiest thing, following his lead, but Tony managed it nonetheless and trusted Thor to lead the way even when the bots rolled over to them, greeting Tony with enthusiastic beeps and whistles.

Come what may, Tony wasn't alone right now, and he needed to worry about it a little less until something forced him to re-evaluate the situation.

* * *

 **Day 177 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony heard the footfalls in the snow before Clint spoke up; he knew that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have heard the archer approach until it was too late, but Clint obviously wanted to make his presence known.

"I think it will start snowing soon," Clint said.

The bots let out beeps, to either welcome the archer back or to comment that there was already too much snow for them to move around comfortably.

Tony didn't need to comment that snow was not the best thing that could happen right now. "Any sign of the others?" he asked instead.

"None yet," Clint replied. "Should we find shelter and wait for them?"

"Did you spot any five-star hotels in the vicinity?" Tony joked. Honestly, a warm hole in the ground would be good enough, or an abandoned shack.

"I saw a couple cabins while checking the area, but all of them were long since destroyed, courtesy of the aliens," Clint grumbled. "None of them even had one solid wall still standing."

"Then I guess we keep walking until we come across something suitable," Tony decided. It wasn't like they had a choice, unless they wanted to start building an igloo.

Clint grunted his agreement and Tony resumed walking, prompting the bots to move. Unlike before, Clint stayed close this time around. Perhaps the snowfall was more imminent than Tony had realized or Clint simply didn't feel the need to go on patrol again so soon.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later when Tony grew aware of extra coolness on his skin and realized it was indeed starting to snow. Five minutes more and he couldn't stop noticing it, the temperature plummeting, wind picking up and snow falling so heavily there was no mistaking its caress on his skin.

Clint remained silent and Tony guessed there was still no shelter in sight. Whether or not their long-term plan was to keep trudging through snow, he didn't know, but step after step Tony's mind began to freeze solid around the thought that they needed a better option – especially since he wanted to get rid of the prickling cold seeping into his skin. Extremis kept him from getting frostbite, but it didn't prevent the deeply unsettling sensation of permeating cold.

"We need to find some kind of shelter, at least until the snowfall stops," Tony declared after several minutes, his lips uncomfortably stiff as he spoke.

The bots agreed with low bleeps of their own.

"There's nothing but woods around us, as far as I can see," Clint replied, sounding like the cold was getting to him, too.

"Then you'll have to go look further," Tony stated. "We'll both freeze out here otherwise." Well, he wouldn't, but Clint wasn't as lucky.

"It's snowing pretty hard," Clint replied. "I think we should stay together."

From that, Tony deduced the visibility was poor and Clint didn't want to chance them getting split up. The way Steve had chewed Natasha out when she made the call to leave Tony behind that one time about three months ago…

"Keep your eyes open," Tony said finally, disliking how limited their options were but knowing there was nothing either of them could do to change them.

"Always," Clint murmured over the abruptly rising howl of the wind.

The wind didn't relent for the longest time, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move forward through the snow that was piling up all around them. It was either keep moving or stay still and become buried.

Tony was just about to suggest they try to build some kind of shelter amidst the trees and possibly make a fire when the wind carried over the violent sound of a tree being snapped in half. Tony stopped, waiting for the familiar growl that would welcome the Hulk into their midst, but it never came.

"You heard that, right?" he asked Clint.

"Yeah," the archer confirmed.

"Think it's the big guy?"

The sound of the tree falling came as if from a slow-motion film, dragging and lingering. Tony could imagine frozen limbs clutching onto nearby trees for support, threatening to drag them down as well until gravity and momentum became too much and the lone, broken tree fell the rest of the way to the snowy ground.

Still there was no growl or grunt, and Tony hesitated. The Hulk was never this quiet.

Clint moved past him slowly, making as little sound as possible. The bots shifted restlessly, as if knowing something was up, and one of them let out a low whine.

"Shh," Tony hushed, reaching out to lay his hands on both robotic arms.

A faint thump floated over to them, distorted by the wind. It was followed by another, growing into a fairly regular rhythm that resembled heavy footfalls.

The Hulk, while not light on his feet, didn't move quite that heavily, and Tony had a nagging suspicion that soon the snow wouldn't be their biggest problem anymore.

"I'll check it out," Clint said and moved forward.

Tony pressed his teeth together to keep from replying. He knew it was logical to find out what they were up again, but he didn't want to be left alone in the middle of the forest, clinging to the bots, waiting for _someone_ or _something_ unknown to come for him.

Clint didn't get far; a muffled yelp reached Tony's ears, then a genuine cry of extreme pain. It was loud even with the wind mixing things up, making Tony cringe and stiffen. Making so much noise was sure to attract someone to their location, and as if responding to that thought, the distant footfalls halted.

"Clint?" Tony hissed out, as loudly as he dared.

There was no reply.

"Shit," he muttered and stepped forward. "Can you find out which direction he went?" he asked the bots. "We need to find him."

The bots let out low beeps of confirmation, sensing that they needed to be silent. They led him forward a short distance before starting to hesitate, and Tony wondered whether or not they'd seen where Clint went.

"Clint?" he called out again. Aside from the wind, he could not hear anything, and it was making his already questionable nerves fray at the edges. There were no distant footfalls that he could detect, which was probably good – or bad, in case someone unfriendly was trying to pinpoint their location.

Frankly, Tony was circling an inevitable conclusion in his mind; there were only a few things he knew of that could move with enough strength to make trees fall like dominos. If not the Hulk, then they were being tracked by an alien exo-suit, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it started circling and stumbled upon their location.

A pained moan reached his ears, closer than the potential enemy, and Tony turned his head this way and that to pinpoint it. "Don't move," came a call from Clint. "There's a drop right there. Walked right into it."

"A pit?" Tony asked, trying to keep his voice as low as possible while he tried to figure out how far apart they were.

"More like fifty feet of downhill," Clint replied, a strain in his voice.

"Can you climb back up?" Tony asked. "Or should I come down?"

"Don't," Clint warned. "It's steep."

"Then you'd better hurry because I think there's an alien about," Tony ordered.

There was no reply, or a sound of Clint climbing back up to them.

One of the bots let out a long whine and Tony slid his hand along its arm, feeling it craning forward to his left. He slowly moved his feet, knowing the snow was slippery and could hide deadly traps. The bots seemed to figure out what he was doing and let out sounds of warning, but Tony shushed them again and kept searching until he found the edge of the drop.

Moving his body as close as he dared, he kept feeling it out. Clint hadn't lied: it was almost a vertical drop, at least near the beginning, and Tony obviously couldn't see whether there was anything that might slow down his slide. There might be trees – or just broken branches that would impale him, amidst stones awaiting his bones to break against them.

"Tony, just stay put!" Clint called out to him. There was something about his voice that upset Tony, like a vibe telling him everything wasn't okay.

"I can't hear you climbing up yet," he retorted, withdrawing his foot for now and scooting back from the edge.

Again one of the bots let out a whine, and Tony began to suspect that their luck had just run out.

"I… I can't climb up," Clint replied after a moment. Tony thought he heard a muttered 'fuck' follow that statement.

"Then I'll have to come down there," Tony stated. One of the bots fisted its claw in the back of his jacket as if afraid he was going to blindly jump off the edge. "Can you see if there's a gentler slope nearby?" he asked, hinting that he wasn't insane enough to throw caution to the wind and trust in God to deliver him down there in one piece.

"I can't see anything like that," Clint answered. "Just stay up there."

Tony frowned. "Is he hurt?" he asked the bots, voice low.

Both of them let out sounds of confirmation.

"Is it bad?"

The pitch of the first set of sounds was repeated and they made his stomach twist in discomfort.

"Damn it," he swore, testing the edge of the drop with his foot again. "Can you see a safe path down there?"

Sounds of denial soon followed – so soon that Tony was tempted to tell them to keep looking. There had to be some way down there that didn't leave him with a broken neck.

He could always put on the helmet, at least for a little while. His brain wasn't yet rested enough for full-time use, but he could put it on long enough to make his way over to Clint.

In the distance, a new series of footfalls signaled that the alien battle armor was moving again. Tony could have prayed for it to be something other than it was, but that didn't change the reality that his own armors were more lightweight, as were Thor and the Hulk, and it had been only a matter of time before the aliens gained on them.

Tony tried snapping his fingers to bring his focus to the problem at hand, but his hands were too cold to manage such a delicate motion. "Come on," he berated himself and brought his hands to his mouth to breathe warm air onto the icy cold skin. "You can think of something. You're a damn genius…"

The bots let out sympathetic beeps, as if voicing their condolences on his failure to out-think their current situation.

"Fuck it!" Tony decided finally. He was doing all in his power _not_ to deploy the one solution he had available, wasting precious time and energy to find a secondary alternative.

Grabbing onto the messenger bag he had been carrying around, he pulled it over to his front and snapped open the buckles. His freezing hands reached inside, rummaging through the contents until he carefully pulled out the light helmet.

"Tony?" Clint called out. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your dumb ass," Tony muttered, shifting the helmet around in his hands until he knew it was turned the right way. Beside him, the bots let out concerned sounds, but there was no alternative he could think of. Just because he couldn't hear continuous movements from the enemy didn't mean they weren't approaching, and this wouldn't be the first time one of his teammates hid their own injury so as not to alert Tony, who apparently couldn't handle such distress in addition to his own blindness.

Well, to be honest, it wasn't a particularly nice feeling knowing one of his teammates was hurt and that he couldn't do much of anything to help, but it didn't mean they had to keep it from him.

Tony needed a bit more help and guidance than usual, but he didn't need to be coddled.

With a deep breath to steady himself, Tony pulled the woolly hat off his head and replaced it with the helmet. The metal parts were cold against his skin, instantaneously making him want to pull it away from his bare scalp, but Tony resisted, pushing it firmly onto his head and waiting for the helmet to tighten and the initial discomfort of the implants activating.

He ticked off the seconds like a countdown in his mind, but when he hit zero, nothing happened. "No," he said, refusing to believe it, and waited some more. When _nothing_ continued to happen, concern inevitably followed disbelief. Had the helmet been damaged in the fall from the Quinjet, or by the cold? It should have worked independently without J.A.R.V.I.S., but Tony felt no indication that the helmet was responding to him.

Unwilling to give up just yet, Tony pressed his cold fingers along the helmet's surface, moving his fingertips around, trying to force the helmet to tighten manually and prompt it into action. Nothing felt broken to him, but the cold weather was still a possible factor.

"Work, dammit," he muttered, trying to stop himself from getting frustrated even though he knew it was inevitable. Besides, frustration was better than fear. If he couldn't get the helmet to operate, he had to find a way to reach Clint in his blind state, and he knew what the odds were; there was a reason why he was willing to work his brain overtime rather than to fall downhill and split his skull on a tree or a rock.

One of the bots whirred and tapped their claw against the side of his head. The collision wasn't hard, but apparently it knocked something into place because a moment later Tony felt a smarting pain spread across his head, cold sweat breaking out in response to it. The peak of the discomfort didn't last long, transforming into a dull throb that was a constant reminder that he was not yet ready to put on the helmet – but then the implants connected to the helmet and it was as if someone had turned on the lights around Tony.

His brain had a hard time adjusting to the visuals without J.A.R.V.I.S. directly monitoring the progress, but Tony had done this often enough to stabilize the imagery and shift through various options until he had the best possible option selected in order to look down.

Slowly, to give his inner ear time to get used to it, Tony straightened and took a good look around. He made out the trees around them, the continuous snowfall like a layer of static laid over everything. Tony tuned it out, focusing on the stuff that mattered; he looked towards where Clint was, and the archer hadn't lied about the steep drop. It was a good thing Tony hadn't tried to climb down because he may have ended up just like the archer, lying at the bottom in a pose that suggested he was injured and couldn't really move.

From that distance it was hard to be certain, but it looked like there was blood coming out of his left leg. Its warmth was swiftly cooled by the elements around them, but it lingered just long enough for the implants to pick it up.

"Tony," Clint called up to him. The visibility had to be poor for his human eyes, but Clint had always been the one who spotted the little details in the distance. "Take off the helmet!" the archer called out a moment later, clearly having figured that was the way Tony had chosen to go.

Ignoring the other, Tony looked around. The steep drop continued as far as he could see, and since Clint hadn't gotten up by now, Tony suspected it was because he _couldn't_ get up.

Which meant he had to go down there.

"Wait here," he told the bots. "Be quiet and still."

Both robots drooped their arms as he looked at them, letting out unhappy sounds that were quite close to fearful.

"I won't leave you behind," Tony told them. "I just need to go down there to make sure Clint is okay." How he was planning on getting back up, he didn't know yet, but there had to be a way around the drop in front of him.

The bots shifted but stayed silent. Tony patted them both, then adjusted the bag on his shoulder and looked for the least hazardous route to the bottom of the slope. Once he thought he had found it, he didn't waste his time; his head was starting to hurt like he was getting a migraine, and had his actual eyes been used for seeing, he was certain he would have been unable to see in front of him by now.

Crouching down, he laid himself low near the edge of the slope and then shifted his foot down, reaching a nearby tree. That provided him a firm foothold to lower his body further down, using anything he could to keep himself from falling uncontrollably.

Tony had done as much rock climbing and spelunking as could be expected from a billionaire, but he had no climbing gear on and this was no solid wall. Every time he trusted the snowy hillside too much, his hand or foot briefly sank into the snow, threatening to unbalance him and land him at the bottom. He kept relying on trees, branches and rocks rather than snow, always trying to make sure that if he slipped, there was something he could grab on to stop himself. It was tiresome, in between his body being exhausted from the battle and feeling cold from the extended stay in the cold outdoors in insufficient clothing. He kept moving, though, knowing that stopping meant using the helmet for a longer period of time, and the worsening headache alone was threatening to break his concentration.

Every now and then, when the whirling wind was blowing from a favorable direction, Tony could make out muttered swears from Clint. The other man didn't call out to him or tell him to climb back up, though – not that Tony would have tried climbing back up because he was having a hard enough time getting to the bottom in one piece.

Tony's entire body was aching by the time he deemed it safe to slide down the rest of the way. There were stinging scrapes on his hands which the snow hadn't managed to render numb with cold, and he could feel Extremis starting to respond to the pain radiating inside his skull. He made a tiny leap from the tree he had been leaning on for support, then skidded down on his ass until the steep downhill ended rather abruptly.

While he would have appreciated a break, Tony knew he had no time to waste. He got to his feet, shook off some of the snow clinging to his clothing, then made his way over to Clint. The man was half-laying on his back, propped up on his hands, face turned towards Tony.

"You should have stayed up there," Clint informed him when he got a bit closer.

"You should have paid attention to where you were going," Tony snapped back and halted a few feet away from Clint, trying to assess his injury. "How bad is it?"

Clint hesitated. "You can't tell?"

Tony took that as an invitation to move closer, stepping up to Clint and crouching down by his feet. Now that he was much closer, he could detect a wide-spread stain on Clint's left thigh – blood, because there was no other explanation – and after he forced the implants to give him a few alternate glimpses at it, he felt his stomach twist uncomfortably; what he hadn't been able to comprehend earlier was a broken bone poking out of Clint's thigh at a very unnatural angle.

"It's not so bad," Clint lied.

Tony fought the urge to get sick and opted to look away. It was hard, seeing as the implants still gave him a 360º-view around him, but he moved his attention elsewhere so as not to focus on the gruesome details of Clint's injury.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the sound of wood cracking was carried to them by the wind, reminding Tony why it had been important they regroup and keep moving.

Despite the pain in his head, Tony tried to focus on the origin of the sound. Try as he might, they were too far apart for him to detect the approaching threat – a fact that should have made him happy. Instead, his ears kept picking up the heavy footfalls and an occasional groan of wood as a heavy weight squeezed its way between two trunks that grew too close together to let it pass freely.

"It's getting closer," Tony stated.

"Can you see it?" Clint asked.

"Not yet."

He could make out the motions of Clint's jaw. "You need to hide."

Tony knew that, but it was possible it wouldn't do them any good. Besides, the bots were pretty much out in the open and Clint wasn't going to move in the condition he was in, plus Tony would just cause him more pain if he tried to haul him up. "Do you have the bleeding under control, or do you need me to…?" Tony really didn't want to feel his way around Clint's injury, even when he could see it through the implants. It wasn't the same as normal eyesight, and there were certain things he would rather not do – like trying to fix up a leg with a bone poking out of it.

"I've got it," Clint told him. This time it didn't sound like he was lying through his teeth.

Another tree fell to the forest floor, still at least half a mile away, but the origin of the destructive force was getting steadily closer to them. They needed a plan right now, and Tony cursed the continuous pain in his head that was becoming a real distraction. Perhaps if he stuck his head in the snow for a bit…

It wouldn't help, of course: the pain was on the inside, singing across his nerves. The longer he used the helmet the closer he got to the dangerous limit all of them knew existed. Until now Tony hadn't pushed it, not wanting to risk it, but it wasn't as if they knew where exactly the limit was – and what would happen if he ignored it.

Clint spoke up, as if guessing his train of thought: "Tony, you need to take off the helmet."

"I don't think this is an ideal time for that," he replied. He had barely gotten the helmet working the first time, and with an alien exo-suit coming their way, he couldn't afford to be blind.

"You're bleeding," Clint went on.

Instinctively, Tony looked down at his hands, but he couldn't detect anything more than scrapes. "I am not," he denied.

"I can see a trail of blood on your neck."

Tony raised his hand and detected a faint trail. He hadn't even felt it because the cold was making the blood dry up faster. Still, he managed to follow it up to his ear, which seemed to be the origin of the flow. _Not good_ , his mind decided. He moved his other hand up as well, testing the other side of his face, and found a near-identical trail there as well. _Crap._

"You've pushed it far enough," Clint told him. "The others will kill me if you end up brain-dead."

"I know what I'm doing," Tony said. "If the stress becomes too great, Extremis will kick in."

"Don't bullshit me," the archer snapped. "Everyone wouldn't be so worried about you overusing the helmet if it wasn't a serious danger!"

"An alien battle armor is also a serious danger, and we've got one incoming!" Tony retorted in kind. They were being too loud, he knew that, but he also felt backed into a corner, out of options, and he didn't like how it made him feel. He was defenseless again, just like when Pepper…

"Find a hole in the ground, dig in and stay put," Clint ordered.

"I'm not leaving you out here alone," Tony refused.

"I can defend myself."

"You can't even stand up," Tony reminded him. "Also, I won't leave the bots."

"You already did," Clint pointed out, and Tony almost kicked him in the shin for that. He didn't need Clint roaring with pain, though, so he restrained the urge to hurt him and instead looked up towards the bots. The two of them were still hovering on the edge of the slope, looking down at them.

It burned, knowing he had left them up there with no way down. He tried to find one now, searching their surroundings frantically, ignoring the pain in his head. It felt like his brain might start melting at any moment, boiling inside his skull, and there was no guarantee Extremis could prevent it.

He gave up on that idea and looked at Clint, eyeing up his quiver, trying to determine what he had left in it. "Is that a flare?" he asked, pointing at the quiver and the single arrow-head that looked slightly different from the other ones in thermal imaging.

"I think I have one of those, yeah," Clint nodded.

"Let's use it," Tony decided.

"That's like a homing beacon for the alien," Clint needlessly informed him.

"It will also be a signal for the others, because as far as we know, the aliens haven't fired a single flare as of yet," Tony said.

"The aliens might not have located us yet, but they most certainly will if we fire a flare," Clint kept arguing.

"The sounds have been coming steadily closer. If we wait until the aliens have a visual confirmation on our position, it will be too late to fire the flare," Tony shot back. The chances were slim they would go unnoticed. If there was one alien about, it was logical others would follow. In the meanwhile, they had no idea how far away the other members of their team were, and if they didn't get backup in time…

Clint was smart, and he had to be aware of those facts. Tony didn't need him to be happy about it, but if they wanted to survive, they needed a plan. The two of them would have had a hard time fending off a single battle armor even on a good day, but with Clint's injury and Tony without his suit – and running out of time with the helmet – they were truly outgunned.

"Fine," Clint finally agreed and shifted. His breaths immediately turned sharp with the pain he was trying to suppress, and Tony moved to help him release the correct arrow from the quiver. He also went to pick up the bow from where it lay next to Clint on the snow, knowing that Clint was in no shape to stand up and deliver the shot. The archer must have guessed what he was planning: "You know how to do that?" he asked.

"Can't be too hard," Tony shrugged and slowly fitted the arrow on the bow, trying to mimic the motion he had seen Clint execute thousands of times in the past few years they had worked together. He had a good memory, but there was a difference when it came to things he had witnessed versus things he had done.

Usually Clint would have given him a lecture on exactly how difficult it was to hit one's mark with an arrow, but he saved it for later: if this failed, they were seriously out of options. "Make sure you have a good grip," Clint told him instead. "It won't matter where you shoot it, as long as it's upwards."

Tony nodded, fingers gripping the arrow tight as he fought to position it.

"Tilt the bow to a more horizontal position and find the arrow rest," Clint kept instructing him. "You're not supposed to grip the arrow with your fingers, but I think this isn't the time to do it by the books," he added. "Aim up before drawing, in case you can't hold it steady. When you draw back the string, try to feel it in your back muscles more than your arm. Draw it as far as you can, but don't try to hold it for too long."

Tony took a deep breath, visualized it in his mind, then tried to follow through without thinking about it too much. They had one shot at this, and if Tony accidentally released the arrow too soon and sent it into the trees, it wouldn't be much of a sign to their friends.

"You're doing great," Clint encouraged him.

"You'll regret saying that tomorrow," Tony replied, unable to help himself. "It will go to my head…"

He lifted the bow, made sure he had the arrow more or less secure in his grip, then tested the tension of the string. Technically, he knew just how Clint liked his bows – he had redesigned many of them. He recalled it took effort to pull the string backwards, and now that he was doing it for real he felt it in both his arms and his back.

Not caring about finesse, he aimed the arrow skywards. It was as if every muscle in his body grew tense as he pulled on the string with rigid focus. The implant had a hard time adjusting to the view of the sky, but Tony trusted he was aiming in the right direction.

"Let it go," Clint told him, breaking through his near-painful concentration, and Tony released the arrow. He could barely see it fly up, and for a moment he feared he had failed horribly. He was about to ask Clint when the man shifted and reached out to press a remote trigger near the handle of the bow, and shortly after the sky lit up.

Tony hissed and tried to block it, the brightness literally hurting his already aching brain. The flare wasn't as bright in reality as the thermal imaging suggested, of course, but Tony lacked the ability to fine-tune the implants' input without J.A.R.V.I.S. and eventually had to admit defeat and remove the helmet before he blacked out from the pain.

"About time," Clint said and took the bow from him while Tony sucked in air and tried to convince his brain that it could stop hurting now that the helmet was off. "You okay?" he asked after a bit.

"Yeah," Tony said, even though he didn't feel fine. He sank down to his knees on the ground and scooped up some snow, rubbing it carefully into his scalp. It didn't make the hot pain on the inside decrease, but it distracted his mind and helped him focus on the important stuff – like the far-away sound of trees creaking and a heavy weight starting to push towards them at a rapid pace.

"At least someone saw it," Clint muttered.

"Just wait," Tony ordered him. "Have faith."

Clint didn't reply. Maybe he had a hard time accepting Tony Stark was the one willing to go out on a limb and believe the rest of their team would come to their aid in time.

It wasn't all that surprising, really: ever since their first battle together, Tony had had faith that their team would work in a certain way. Back then he had believed Bruce would come and join the fight, and right now their survival depended on someone other than the aliens spotting the flare. So, he was going to believe the others would come because otherwise everything would cease to matter very shortly.

The alien exo-suit kept approaching. It was hard to tell exactly how far away it was, but Tony, without his ability to see, was able to discern little details that marked its continuous attempts to locate them.

On top of the slope, the bots let out soft whines.

"Find a place to hide," Tony ordered them, as loudly as he dared. He wasn't sure if they did as they were told, or even understood what would constitute hiding, but he hoped against all hope that the alien would come for the winning prize and not care about two harmless robots.

Silence landed again, all of them listening to the telltale sounds of their doom making its approach. There was no indication that one of their team was coming for them, just as they had no idea how far apart they were to begin with – or if the others were in a place where they could spot the flare and come to their aid. The Avengers moved fast when they needed to, but the alien had already been close, and Tony was beginning to have doubts about his plan.

"Get behind me," Clint said at length.

"What good will that do?" Tony asked.

"I'm going to take a shot at it once it's close enough," the archer replied sharply. "I don't want you standing in the way."

Tony didn't ask whether or not Clint could make that shot while barely able to sit up. Since Clint didn't request to be moved, Tony figured the other knew what he was doing and he slowly moved around him, using the time to place the helmet within the bag again and to pull on the woolly hat. His head was still irritated and far from cooling down, but the hat gave him a sense of protection – which it really wasn't.

He crouched down behind Clint, making sure he was far enough back not to get in the way. The bots were quiet, whereas the heavy footsteps from the battle armor were getting much clearer.

"Maybe it will fall down like you did and break its metallic neck," Tony murmured wistfully.

Clint just grunted by way of reply.

"Do you need me to do something?" Tony asked. "Prop you up, reload…"

"Just stay where you are," Clint told him, tension in his voice. "I would tell you to run for your life, but…"

Tony reached out to clasp his teammate's shoulder briefly. "That wouldn't be very heroic of me."

"No point in both of us dying out here," Clint noted.

"How far do you honestly think I would get?" Tony challenged. "We're in this together."

A heavy branch or a thin tree was torn in half somewhere on their right, and Tony shifted back again, pointlessly trying to make sense of his surroundings. The footfalls were coming from really close by and his heartbeat was shooting up in anxiety and dread.

"Can you see it?" Tony asked in a whisper.

"Not yet."

Something flew out above their heads and crashed into the treetops. Whatever it was, its weight dragged it down for the next half a minute, one branch at a time, but it never hit the ground.

Tony could hear Clint breathe, inhales and exhales forced into a slow pace that shuddered a bit near the end. There came a faint _tick-tick_ as he adjusted his bow.

The next footfall came from above them where the steep hill started, and Tony felt like urging Clint to take the shot. A mechanical foot adjusted its stance, causing a mini-avalanche to rumble down the hill. The exo-suit wasn't directly above them, but Tony could feel the breeze the tumbling snow created, not too far away from them.

"How much closer do you want it to get?" he asked Clint, unable to hold his tongue. There was no way the alien hadn't spotted them.

"I think it's planning on coming down to us," Clint replied.

Tony wasn't sure why Clint wanted to wait for that to happen. The fall down the hill would not kill the alien or damage the battle armor too badly, so it wouldn't work in their favor. Maybe Clint just didn't think he could make the shot from his current position.

The heavy weight shifted again – then began a violent slide down the slope. Trees groaned and snapped, rocks were forced out of their cocoons in the frosty ground. There came a few hasty steps, as if the armor was forced to run downhill to keep its balance, and when it finally landed on the bottom, it was with a heavy _thud_ that rocked the ground beneath Tony.

Clint drew an arrow but didn't fire.

Tony closed his eyes, out of habit, and wondered if it was too late in his life to start praying.

The exo-suit moved again, and after the second step, Clint released the arrow with a harsh breath. An explosion followed soon after, throwing Tony back from his hunched position. Snow was everywhere, along with bits of earth – and a groan from the alien battle armor as is straightened itself and continued to approach.

"Tony," Clint said, pain lacing every syllable, "you need to run."

"Not a good plan," Tony managed and sat up. "I can't… go on my own."

Clint obviously wanted him to try anyway, but Tony wasn't going to run like a coward. He was going to stick by his friend and face his enemy, and on that note he rose to his feet, stepping to the side and then forward, past Clint and towards the advancing enemy. He didn't know what he was planning on doing, other than dying on his feet, but that was infinitely better than cowering on the ground, waiting for the final blow.

The armor moved in front of him, and Tony imagined it training one of its weapons on him.

"Come on," he muttered. "Time to finish this –"

A sound like the sky splitting in half overwhelmed his ears, and what Tony assumed was the blast from the alien weapon sent him backwards. The pain he felt was more from the impact with the ground, though, and that threw him off for a moment.

Then he recognized the continuous sound: a thunder so loud and intense it felt like it was going to rip apart the entire mountain, and from somewhere in its midst, the unmistakable ring of Mjolnir hitting the exo-suit square in the chest.

A familiar roar soon echoed in the air and Tony almost peed his pants with relief as the Hulk landed beside them, delivering a devastating blow to whatever was left of the alien at this point.

 _"Sir,"_ another familiar sound reached his ears, the hum of the thrusters like a soft kitten's purr compared to the noises Thor and the Hulk were making as they finished off the battle armor. _"Are you alright?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked through the speakers of the suit. The snow billowed as the Iron Man armor landed nearby.

"I'm fine," Tony replied. "Clint needs help."

"Already on it," Rhodey joined the conversation, briefly startling Tony because where did these people keep coming from? Eventually he allowed himself to relax on the ground, acknowledging that his best friend had returned safely, hopefully along with the rest of the team.

He received a confirmation on that soon enough when more people approached on foot, moving over to them quickly.

"It's bad," Natasha observed out loud a moment later, obviously meaning Clint.

"I've had worse," Clint retorted.

"No, you haven't," she argued.

"You don't know that…"

"Yes, I do."

"Stabilize him to the best of your ability," Steve ordered, cutting off the soft banter. "Rhodey, give her a hand." Tony could hear him walking closer as the sounds of battle ceased and the thunder yielded with a final rumble across the sky. "Are you really okay?" he asked Tony, stopping beside him.

"I'll be fine," Tony promised.

 _"We should regroup and move out,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said. _"I have successfully contacted a nearby air base and they are sending out a team to pick us up. In the meanwhile, we would do well to avoid any more alien patrols."_

"It's not like we invited this one to dinner," Tony complained.

"You fired a flare," Steve countered.

"When it was already closing in on us!"

 _"Should I resume aerial patrol?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

"Get the bots first," Tony ordered.

 _"On it, sir."_

Tony sighed and sat up, accepting a hand from Steve to get to his feet.

"You put on the helmet, didn't you?" Steve said in a low voice. It didn't sound like a question, exactly, but Tony felt like he was waiting for an answer.

"The situation called for it," Tony responded. "Clint was in no shape to help himself, and I would be lying next to him if I had tried to reach him blindly."

Steve accepted his answer, shifting his attention to the rest of the team. "We need to move out. Rescue is coming, but until then we're sticking together and playing it safe." He then shifted his hand to touch Tony's elbow. "Can you walk or shall I carry you?"

Tony wasn't sure why he asked. Did he look worse than he felt? Although honestly, he did feel pretty horrible, what with all the adrenaline gone and his head still hurting.

"Take care of Clint. I'll manage," he decided.

"Let me know if you change your mind," Steve told him, then moved away. A soft murmur of voices continued in his absence as the team tended to Clint's injury and prepared him to be moved, and Tony allowed himself a moment to rest his mind now that the danger had briefly passed.

"Tired," the Hulk rumbled suddenly.

Tony jumped a bit, not having heard him come over. "You and me both," he replied. The Hulk had to be wanting a nap right now, but they also needed the big guy around until they were truly out of danger. "We can rest soon, when rescue comes," he promised the giant green rage monster, who sounded like he had pounded most of his rage out on the aliens.

The Hulk huffed and, by the sound of it, sat down heavily. Tony reached out to pat his arm, waiting for the others to be ready to move out. "Hawkeye got hurt," the Hulk mused after a while.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "He'll be fine, though. We just need to make sure there are no more nasty alien surprises before our ride arrives." He tapped the giant arm with his fingers. "Can you hang around a bit longer, make sure we're all safe?"

The Hulk huffed again, but he didn't say 'no' or start shrinking back to a more Bruce-like shape, so Tony took that as a good sign. It was about time something started going their way since the battle at the crater.

 _to be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Foe - Friend

**Chapter 7: Foe / Friend**

* * *

 **Day 190 of the Alien-Human War**

Bruce sighed and withdrew his medical-glove-covered fingers from Tony's scalp.

"Talk to me, Banner," Tony ordered. Bruce had been sighing regularly since he began inspecting the implant sites, and Tony was getting fed up with it.

"It's too early to –"

"Don't bullshit me!" Tony snapped. "You're a genius, and the first time you sighed was when you laid your eyes on me after Thor brought me in yesterday."

"I don't know what to tell you," Bruce attempted to weasel out of it yet again.

"How about the truth?" Tony knew it would probably be painful, whatever Bruce's verdict was. It was like lying on that table in Afghanistan all over again, his chest wrapped in gauze, feeling returning to the damaged area on top of his heart. Tony had wanted to see it for himself back then, to know the score, and although he wouldn't be able to see for himself this time, he counted on Bruce to fill him in.

"The truth is, the implants are damaged," Bruce finally gave in, a sharpness in his tone. He was angry at Tony. "There's no response from them, and they're partially melted into your skull." Another sigh followed, filled with the violence no doubt brewing inside him. "What were you thinking?"

"Salvation," Tony said honestly, digesting the news. He tried to stay objective about it, to meet it with stoic acceptance, but it was hard. He had known it was bad, but he had hoped against all hope that the implants would have miraculously survived.

He supposed it was miracle enough the implants hadn't melted and fused with his brain. Extremis prevented that, at least…

Bruce grunted and moved away, removing the gloves from his hands and tossing them away. He probably missed his mark because he got up a moment later, landing the gloves in a trash can with as much force as he could – which wasn't much when it came to light rubber. "We're back to square one," Bruce told him. Tony envisioned him glaring at the innocent waste container. "No," he decided a few seconds later, as if his original theory was incorrect. "We're worse off than we used to be because now you have melted mechanical components in your head and the risk you took when installing the implants has been wasted!"

Tony cringed. He carefully listened to Bruce's breaths, knowing this wasn't a good time to bring up his side of the story.

"Why would you do it?" Bruce asked again, this time sounding like his anger was swiftly transforming into violent, worn out sobbing – a change that was infinitely better than dealing with the Hulk.

"I thought I was onto something," Tony replied. Of course, he hadn't just _thought_ he was onto something but had _known_ it for a fact. It had only been a matter of finding the right trigger. He knew how Bruce felt about triggers of any kind, though, and knew it was best not to rile him up any more. "I'm sorry," he offered, just in case it helped.

As he was saying it, the door of the room opened. "While that was pretty convincing, I suggest you work on it some more," Rhodey stated. He didn't sound happy either.

"Can we just get the whole gang together so that I can apologize to you all at the same time?" Tony asked, trying to keep his tone civil but kind of failing by the end of the sentence. With the implants destroyed, he would be trapped in the darkness again, and it sure as hell was more inconvenient to him than the people around him.

"I'm not worried about the team," Rhodey replied. "A plane just landed. A bunch of people are here to review the recent incident."

"What'd you tell them?" Tony asked.

"Nothing yet," Rhodey huffed. "They want to meet with the Avengers, though, ASAP."

"We have better things to do," Bruce murmured.

"I agree," Tony quickly took his side. He didn't need to be seated in a room full of brass that had no clue of the trials he and the team had gone through.

"Four people are dead, Tony," Rhodey reminded him. "Over two dozen are being treated for their injuries, several of them in critical condition."

Tony supposed he should be happy the number of casualties hadn't gone up by more than one since the incident itself. "I know I'm responsible for that," he agreed. "I just don't see the use of some disciplinary action while we're still very much at war."

"That's probably why Fury's here, too," Rhodey noted.

"Fury's here?" Bruce repeated.

"Yeah."

"That's unexpected," Tony mused.

"Which means we should get this meeting out of the way as soon as we can, to show that we're cooperating," Rhodey said.

"Depends on what they want," Bruce stated before Tony could. He moved over to Tony and guided him to stand up, then adjusted his clothing. Tony felt like telling him to stop fussing, but he knew it was Bruce's way to cool down and collect his thoughts.

"Let's go," Tony finally decided when Bruce was simply wasting time and Rhodey's air of impatience was growing.

Rhodey held the door open while Bruce filled the role of guide. It was just like before, in between using the helmet, but somehow the air about them was different; they knew the darkness would not be breached again until they discovered another way to overcome the issue. Whether Rhodey had shared the contents of his conversation with Tony prior to the explosion, he didn't know, and Tony wondered if it would make it easier for the others to accept his actions.

Hell, he didn't even know if Rhodey saw the connection and understood why he had put himself at such a risk and unintentionally harmed bystanders as well.

They left the building and moved to another. Tony was too preoccupied to actually focus on where they were headed, trusting Bruce and Rhodey to get him there. His mind kept slipping back to his failed experiment and its aftermath; what had gone wrong, and was there still a way to fix it? He wouldn't go suggesting it anytime soon, though, sensing that his teammates might not look at it favorably.

"We don't all need to be there," Steve's voice carried down the hallway when they went through another door.

"I'll take your word for it," Clint replied. "I, for one, can think of better things to do with my time."

"Likewise," Natasha stated.

"Make sure he rests," Steve told her. "That leg of his won't heal unless he lets it."

"I'm fine," Clint groused, but Tony could hear him hobbling away, probably leaning on Natasha for support. The injury he had sustained after the battle at Crater Lake was far from healed – even by superhero standards – and their latest battle hadn't improved the process in any way.

"Can I sit this one out, too?" Tony called out.

"No," Steve replied, a certain degree of annoyance in his voice.

"You're still mad at me?" Tony asked as they got closer.

"I am," the super-soldier agreed.

"Well, at least be mad at me for the right reasons," Tony retorted. "I think we can all be equally pissed off that I hurt other people – which wasn't my intention." Least of all getting someone killed…

"What is done is done," Thor joined the conversation. "How went the examination of his injuries?"

Tony didn't want to talk about it, so he left it to Bruce: "We'll talk about it later," the scientist said simply, sounding weary. "Let's get this over with," he added, clearly implying he wasn't looking forward to the meeting.

"You don't need to be there," Steve told him.

"Yes, I do," Bruce said and pulled Tony forward a bit more harshly than was necessary.

They entered a room, possibly one where meetings were regularly held. Tony heard the scraping of chairs against the floor and was then guided to sit in one. Bruce sat beside him while Rhodey took the chair on his right.

"You're looking pretty good for a man who got trapped in the middle of an explosion," Fury's voice stated from the other side of the table.

Tony grit his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He didn't like how it felt, especially since he was being examined. The mood in the room was turning a little tense with mounting hostility. "I'm alive, which is incredibly lucky," he eventually replied because no one else was speaking.

"Unscathed, save for…" The man who spoke was not someone Tony recognized, but unmistakably an older person with a long career in the military. He wasn't sure what he was implying at first, but when Bruce suddenly moved and slid the comfortable woolly hat onto his head, he got a pretty good idea.

"The incident was unfortunate and the Avengers take full responsibility," Steve said before anyone else had a chance to speak.

"No, they won't," Tony disagreed. "You weren't even there."

"Shut up, Tony," Steve snapped at him.

"This isn't a team effort," Tony shot back, not to be silenced.

"Let Cap take the lead," Rhodey murmured from between Tony and Steve.

"None of you knew what I was up to," Tony disagreed.

"And how is that possible?" another foreign voice questioned. "I can see how a blind man could cause a fire, but I cannot condone the negligence of leaving him unsupervised long enough for him to cause this kind of destruction."

Tony turned towards the origin of the voice. "Who the hell do you think I am?" he snapped. "I'm not some kid who was left alone for five minutes, playing with matches."

"Yet the end result was pretty much the same," the man had the nerve to retort.

Tony narrowed his eyes, even though it was just for effect. "You want an apology? You have it. No one else should have gotten hurt as a result of my mistake."

"That's not the only issue we have here," the first man spoke up. "The war against the aliens is not turning in our favor. However, the small-scale success of the Avengers has not gone unnoticed."

Tony could hear the collective huffs from his teammates. 'Small' wasn't exactly how he would describe the battle at Crater Lake, but leave it to military brass to belittle it when their own people weren't involved.

"We are willing to cooperate with any and all military operations around the world," Steve responded diplomatically, implying they just needed to ask and the Avengers would respond.

"Are you?" asked the man Tony was dubbing as Mr. Douche in his head.

"What are you implying, sir?" Rhodey asked before anyone else could get riled up.

"Ever since Mr. Stark's injury, the Avengers have been a loose cannon. Indiscipline and obstinacy, blatant dismissal of orders and chain of command… You have violated military law in a dozen different ways and act as if the rules don't apply to you."

"They don't," Tony retorted.

Rhodey reached over to lay a hand on his arm. "The Avengers are not part of the military force," he said.

"While that may be true, the same doesn't apply to you, Colonel. It's high time you started remembering that."

"Why?" Rhodey actually dared to laugh. "I was an asset as War Machine – an armor Tony Stark created – but the suit's a heap of very expensive scrap metal now."

"You're still an officer of the Air Force," the Old Geezer stated, more patient than Mr. Douche. "I understand you feel like you serve a bigger purpose alongside the Avengers, but you must also know that we need a united front if we mean to win this war – which cannot be swayed by personal sentiment."

"We've had this conversation before," Steve stepped in. "I believe we made it unmistakably clear the Avengers are a team."

"Even when one member of your team is dragging the rest of you down?" Mr. Douche asked. He was really out for blood, and Tony wondered if he knew it was going to be his own mug that was going to get a beating and no one else's.

"Just say it out loud, please," Tony butted in. "No need to beat around the bush."

He imagined a sneer before he got what he was asking for: "Stark is a liability. No matter how you try to butter it up, he's lived out his usefulness to the war effort. The latest incident cements it, I believe."

"You can believe whatever you want," Steve said, ice in his voice. "Tony's one of us."

"He can still be one of you in a safer location," Fury had the gall to say. "I don't need two good eyes to see the implants are a bust. I can see it on all your faces that the tiny ray of hope you had is gone. Stop dragging him around like a blankie you can't let go of and allow him to settle down someplace he can grow familiar with. That will allow him to shift his focus from survival to actually helping us fight the crisis the world is falling into."

That drew a brief silence from the people in the room and Tony wondered if Fury had come all this way to give that little speech.

"No," Steve started.

"Steve," Bruce cut him off. "He… may not be entirely wrong."

"If we are not together, we cannot protect each other," Thor argued.

"He would be out of harm's way," the Geezer offered, as if he already had some underground bunker with Tony's name above its door.

"You don't know that," Rhodey said. "The aliens attacked him for a reason. We don't know what that reason is yet."

"There may have not been a reason," Fury disagreed.

"It was a little too purposeful to be just a random attack," Steve took Rhodey's side, just as Tony knew he would.

"All the more reason to place him out of harm's way," Mr. Geezer said earnestly.

The room's PA system suddenly turned on, a faint scratching noise followed by a hasty announcement: _"Enemy force spotted approaching from the south. All personnel move into position and prepare for an overflight."_ The announcer went on to give more specific orders in military jargon Tony didn't bother to follow, taking in only the most important bits.

"You're expecting them to just fly by?" he asked.

"There is no reason to expect anything else," Old Geezer replied. "The enemy is still displaying disinterest when left unprovoked."

Tony was wondering whether that would still be true after the last two battles, but the Avengers had a way of being provocative, if not downright confrontational.

The PA system scratched again, and everyone quieted for another announcement.

 _"I must disagree with General Sanders; the alien force is directly en-route to Los Alamitos base, which appears to be their intended destination,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. stated.

"Who is that?" Old Geezer – General Sanders – asked.

"That's my AI, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony made half-hearted introductions. "Why did you come to that conclusion, J?" he asked then.

 _"I had Mark 54 investigate this particular squadron since they have been steadily moving towards the base for several hours. It would seem they are scanning a very specific frequency which they are now following to its source."_

"A frequency?" Mr. Douche asked. "Is someone sending them a signal?" he elaborated, as if he expected there to be a mole in their midst.

 _"Not exactly, Brigadier General Duncan,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

"Is it weapons?" Bruce asked.

 _"That would make sense, but no,"_ the AI responded evasively.

"Just spill it, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony told him. "You're wasting time."

 _"They are tracking Extremis, sir."_

A hesitant silence landed yet again.

"What is Extremis?" Douche-Duncan asked.

"Are you sure?" Tony asked his AI, dismissing the other murmured questions.

 _"I have checked multiple times and that is the prevailing conclusion,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

"Can you block it?"

 _"Not without directly interfering with the ships."_

"Keep monitoring," Tony ordered, not wanting to chance Mark 54 when he was already short on armors. He then turned his head to mimic looking at his teammates, even though the motion was getting a bit old when he couldn't actually see them. "We need to make a decision fast," he informed the others.

"Do you think the explosion attracted them?" Bruce ventured to guess.

"Possibly," Tony agreed. "I don't see why, though, unless they're mistaking it for something else."

"We need to move," Steve decided. "We're sitting ducks here, and if they're coming after you, all these people are in danger."

"As are you," Tony pointed out.

"That has not been an issue before, nor will it be one today," Thor declared.

"Don't make a decision for the whole team," Tony countered.

"We can vote on it later," Steve decided. "How long do we have?"

 _"I have estimated twenty-eight minutes until their arrival,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" Tony complained.

 _"I had to make sure it was not a false alarm."_

"Are they looking to weaponize Extremis, or are they using it lieu of cookie crumbs?" Fury pondered.

"If they think it's a weapon they could use, it wouldn't make sense that they tried to kill Tony before," Steve noted as he stood up. Everyone at the table was getting to their feet, and Tony moved to follow.

"Maybe it was just a test," Fury mused.

"We have no idea what they want, and why they want it," Bruce cut into the conversation with a tone of finality in his voice. "I suggest we not wait to figure it out now when Tony can't help in battle, our two suits are out of commission and Clint is still on the mend."

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Steve called out to the AI, "inform the other Avengers that we are mobilizing. And tell Wilson he's our eyes in the sky."

 _"Immediately, Captain Rogers."_

"Think the rookie can take it?" Tony asked as Bruce started to lead him out of the room.

"Well, he wanted to prove he's Avengers material," Rhodey said from ahead of them. "This is his moment to shine. I just hope his wings didn't take a beating in Long Beach."

Tony agreed, seeing as he was in no state to make repairs.

* * *

 **Day 178 of the Alien-Human War**

They made it to the Crater Lake Highway roughly an hour after setting off.

Thor was carrying Clint, who was being a trooper and only making pained noises when they traveled over particularly challenging terrain where Thor couldn't help jostling him. The Hulk and Rhodey in his War Machine armor helped the bots and Tony over the rough spots while J.A.R.V.I.S. kept watch through Mark 52, ensuring they made no further contact with the aliens.

It seemed the lone battle armor had indeed been out on its own, but they knew better than to lower their guard until they were well and truly safe.

As the wind changed its direction, Tony's nose was filled with the burnt smell drifting down from the caldera. He pretended it also carried an aroma of cooking aliens, no matter how gruesome the imagery. No one had forced them to come to Earth and attack it, as far as he knew.

The Hulk grunted where the green goliath was walking alongside him, and the bot leading Tony halted.

"What's up?" Tony asked.

"Tired," the Hulk mumbled.

"We all are," Tony agreed.

"Hulk sleep now," the Hulk declared, and from the sound of it Tony imagined the rage monster had just curled up in the middle of the road and started snoring.

Tony stepped away from the bot and towards the big lump that was his teammate, and under his hands he could feel the large form already shrinking. "Does anyone have a change of clothes for Bruce?" he asked.

"No," Steve replied. No one else bothered to make a response, which meant Steve's reply was shared by them all.

"I have Thor's cape," Clint offered.

"Keep it," Rhodey told the archer; Clint was wrapped up in Thor's cape because he was injured and more vulnerable to the cold than the rest of them. "He can have my clothes, I suppose," Rhodey went on. "The armor's insulated, more or less. I'll manage until rescue comes. J.A.R.V.I.S. says it won't be much longer."

"The armor communications are back up?" Tony asked as he listened to the War Machine armor opening and Rhodey getting ready to disrobe himself in the middle of the snowy Oregon Route 62.

"Comes and goes," Rhody replied. "The smoke cloud from the caldera is disturbing the satellite link and making armor-to-armor communications spotty." He stopped moving and made a sound like he was freezing – which of course wasn't too far from the truth. "You guys dress him; I'm going back inside the armor."

Tony smiled and moved back, allowing Steve and Natasha get to work dressing Bruce. The man murmured something unintelligible every now and then, but otherwise remained deep in his slumber.

Steve picked Bruce up after they were done and Tony returned to the bots so that they could start walking again.

Roughly fifteen minutes later Tony thought he heard rotors approaching. The bots slowed down and then Mark 52 landed a few feet from him – leading the way for a large tandem-rotor helicopter. Tony had spent enough time around aircrafts to hear the difference in their engines, just as he could hear the slight difference between his armors and Rhodey's. Not that the differences between the latter were all that great now that he was the primary technician working on War Machine once again, and parts were hard to come by between battles.

"About time," Rhodey announced loudly over the noise of the landing aircraft. "Our ride is here."

The rotors slowed down but never stopped moving. Tony heard the ramp being lowered and people moving about even though the whipping wind stole most of the sounds before they properly reached his ears. "Avengers!" someone called out, moving over to them. "It's an honor."

"Autographs can wait," Tony stated loudly over the noise. "We need to be elsewhere as quick as possible."

"Sure thing," the guy agreed and they all moved to the helicopter. The bots hesitated at the foot of the ramp, perhaps recalling how their last flight had ended, but after Tony walked in ahead of them – focusing really hard on not falling down and making an ass out of himself – the bots followed him inside.

By the sound of it, medics were taking a look at Clint even before they lifted off, and Bruce was wrapped in some additional clothing as he slept clear through the take-off.

"Would you like a blanket?" someone spoke up near Tony, and it took him a moment to realize the man was talking to him. "You're looking a little cold."

"Thanks," Tony said hesitantly. "Uh, hand it to one of the bots…"

 _"I've got it, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said, moving Mark 52 closer to take the blanket from the airman and handing it to Tony.

Tony fussed with the blanket for a bit, listening for the cue that the man had left him alone, but it didn't sound like he had moved at all. "Do you need something?" he asked, in case he really was still there.

"You're Tony Stark," the man replied.

"Obviously," Tony rolled his eyes.

"I'm… It's an honor, meeting you all. The Avengers."

Tony suspected this was the guy who had rolled out the red carpet before they got on the helicopter. He decided not to be annoyed, instead embracing the rare moment where a member of the military personnel wasn't either really uncomfortable around them or simply pissed because the Avengers did things in their own way, most of the time. "At ease," Tony replied, knowing how rigid even the most enthusiastic of men could be until they were told it was okay to be themselves.

The man chuckled. "It's not every day one gets to chat with a superhero."

Tony smiled a bit. "You Air Force?"

"Used to be. Before the war. A whole lot of people came out of retirement for this."

Tony nodded. "What did you do before?"

"Funny story…" Another chuckle, almost disappearing beneath the sound of the rotors speeding up. "Is it okay if I sit down?" the man asked.

Tony shrugged and shifted over, and soon felt the man take a seat next to him. The bots moved as well, probably to keep an eye on the stranger. Tony reached out to pat one of them on the arm, signaling them to relax but simultaneously not ordering them away. Not that he was concerned, the rest of his team only a few feet away and Mark 52 even closer. "You were saying?" he spoke up towards the other man.

"I was a PJ – a pararescueman. My last gear included an EXO-7 Falcon."

Tony guessed that was supposed to tell him something – and then it did: Stark Industries had designed and manufactured a set of jet packs with retractable wings. Tony had directly worked on the jet pack engines, back in the day, whereas the rest of the designs had come from other specialists. There was a reason why Iron Man armor didn't have wings, after all. "Two sets of wings were created for the USAF," he said.

"I was one of the two guys who got strapped into those things."

"I guess they worked, seeing as you're sitting here," Tony mused.

"Yeah…" It sounded like there was a story there – possibly involving the other pair of wings and their pilot. "I'm Sam Wilson," the man offered next, and Tony could just feel him offering his hand for a shake, which Tony obviously couldn't see. The man must have realized it almost right away, shifting a bit.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Tony replied to ease the tension.

"Everything okay?" Steve's voice came from above them and Tony turned his face towards it, picturing the man standing in front of them.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "Sam here is a big fan, so I don't think I need to make introductions."

"Captain," Sam acknowledged. "It's an honor."

Tony imagined Steve checking Sam out, assessing him, and Sam probably doing some of that in return, getting a close look at the living legend himself.

"I was wondering," Sam went on. "If you ever need help, I'm your man."

Tony actually had to laugh at that. "You've got a serious pair on you, Falcon," he praised. "We don't exactly have a line of volunteers tagging behind us."

"Wilson," Sam corrected, then went on smooth as butter melting in the sun: "I respect the work you've been doing and I think that I could be an asset to you. If someone's going to turn the tide on those alien bastards –"

"Woah!" Steve cut him off. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We're not…"

"He's trying to say that we're not looking to hire at this moment," Tony finished for him.

Steve grunted. "We're a team. There's a reason for that. I appreciate your enthusiasm but fighting beside us might not be the best place for you."

Tony could almost taste Sam's disappointment. "If I could just –"

"There are other places to fight the good fight than by our side," Steve told him sharply, yet not unkindly.

"That's what people kept telling me," Rhodey suddenly appeared in the middle of their conversation. He must have gotten out of the armor for now because otherwise Tony would have heard his approach. Rhodey moved past the bots and sat down on Tony's other side. "James Rhodes," he offered, reaching his arm across Tony – who didn't miss him not including his rank for once, even though this was probably the best place for it. Perhaps he wanted to introduce himself as an Avenger more than a Colonel of USAF.

"Sam Wilson."

Tony felt them shaking hands over his lap.

"You got something to say, honey bear?" Tony teased his friend.

"Give the brother a chance," Rhodey said without preamble.

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Tony smirked.

"It isn't," Rhodey snapped at him as if he was truly offended – which he wasn't. They had known each other too long for that. "When I joined the ranks of the Avengers, my superiors told me I was making a mistake. They still tell me that. They'd rather have me right where I used to be, which is just fine, but I am making an actual difference with you guys. I think Sam here sees the same potential."

"I sure do, sir," Sam quickly agreed.

"With Clint injured and on the mend, we're one man short," Rhodey went on.

"How's your archery, Falcon?" Tony asked.

"Not my specialty," Sam readily admitted. "I can fly, though."

Tony hummed. "You still got your wings?"

Sam hesitated. "Yes – but there's a catch."

"Like?" Tony pressed.

"I got shot down by a Category 3 a few months back. The wings need repairs, and so far no one has been able to get them working."

"A bird with a broken wing," Tony sighed. "What are we gonna do about that?"

"I was actually hoping you could do something about that," Sam said, clearly meaning Tony.

'Balls' Tony mouthed in Steve's general direction, then turned his face towards Sam. "You come over here, start chatting me up, all the while hoping I will glue together your winged jet pack?"

"I figured I would have to try and sell it to you first," Sam replied. "But I understand if there's a hitch, you being… blind and all."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, knowing the effect was the same whether he could see or not. "I'm hearing a challenge."

"No challenge," Sam Wilson lied. "I understand if it's not possible."

"I may be blind, but I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not," Sam quickly agreed.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony called out, "do we have schematics for EXO-7?"

 _"I cannot say for certain at this time, sir, but it is possible – especially if we visit Stark Industries offices."_

"Ha," Tony exclaimed. "So, we may be in business," he concluded.

"I'm confused," Steve admitted.

"Tony can't back down from a challenge," Rhodey told him.

"Not a challenge," Sam Wilson repeated, but Tony could tell he was wearing a shit-eating grin as he said the words.

"It still doesn't mean you're on the team," Tony informed him. "Nor does it mean I'm fixing up your wings; I have two armors to maintain once we land."

"He'll take a look at your gear," Rhodey promised over Tony's shoulder.

"You keep rooting for him much more and I'll have _you_ take a look at them," Tony threatened his friend.

"Fine," Rhodey agreed.

"And I won't help."

"I said 'fine', didn't I?"

Tony grumbled. His head was still hurting and he needed to rest before any actual maintenance could take place. "It's my tech," he muttered. "Partially, anyway. You would just mess it up."

"Whatever you say, Tones."

Tony rolled his eyes one more time and then leaned against the wall, closing his eyelids. "Conversation over," he declared.

Sam got up from his seat, disappearing somewhere, and Steve took his place. Rhodey remained where he was and Tony slowly shifted to lean against his side, dozing off until they landed and it was time to lay on an actual bed.

 _to be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Destroy - Seek

**Chapter 8: Destroy / Seek**

* * *

 **Day 190 of the Alien-Human War**

Whenever danger approached and they needed to move fast, Tony could tell his teammates wanted to just scoop him up and run for it. Tony's blindness was a hindrance when it came to running, or even striding, and knowing that there would be no relief in the form of the helmet made him feel almost claustrophobic.

As the minutes ticked by, Bruce's arm grew tenser beneath Tony's grip. He knew that the Hulk would be needed if they had to go toe-to-toe with the aliens – and Bruce was aware of it, too.

"How's the countdown looking?" Tony asked after a bit. The commotion all around them sounded very disorderly when he couldn't see it, deepening his own anxiety. One might've thought Tony would've gotten used to it by now, but he doubted he ever would.

"Don't think about that," Rhodey ordered him from the head of their small group. Steve and Thor had already taken off, leaving the three of them to move at Tony's pace.

"We need to get the comms up," Tony said next. It helped if he could plan out loud, taking his mind off the impending attack. Of course, there might be no attack at all, but the way the entire base was mobilizing… It didn't sound like they were just hiding in their bunkers like a tortoise waiting out a threat.

"Just focus on walking," Rhodey told him.

"I'm better at focusing if I have something to distract myself with," Tony snapped.

A bot's loud whistle brought their banter to a halt and Tony froze in his tracks.

"Guys!" Clint called out a few seconds later. "We've got your stuff. Let's go."

"Do we have a plan?" Rhodey asked as they changed direction towards the sound of their teammates.

"I'm not sure," Clint admitted. "Guess it depends on the aliens."

Meaning they were either going to cut and run, or fight tooth and nail. The second option was far from appealing since only Thor and the Hulk could bring any real pain to their enemies.

Tony distracted himself by greeting the bots, letting go of Bruce in favor of doing so. The bots lightly nipped at his clothing, craning their arms close as they all waited for a consensus on how to proceed.

"We need a transport," Bruce said, still at Tony's side. "Regardless of how this goes, we need to get more than half the team as far from here as possible." He didn't name any names, but everyone who was on that list knew it – and disliked it in equal measures.

"There's got to be something we can do," Clint complained.

"We'll live to fight another day," Rhodey countered even though it had to physically pain him to say that. He wasn't the type to sit back and let others do the fighting, but without a suit there was only so much he could do. Tony had a feeling he was going to make it his mission to keep the rest of the non-fighting team alive – Tony being at the head of the list as the most vulnerable member.

"This way," Natasha spoke up, making herself known for the first time. She didn't sound overly pleased with the situation either, but at least she knew her limits and favored staying alive.

Bruce moved his arm under Tony's hand, indicating that they were moving forward again. Not wanting to slow the others down, Tony accepted his guidance without protest. He felt the bots withdraw but trusted Dummy and You to either follow him or let him know they were unable to keep up for some reason.

For a moment it felt like they were swimming against the current, dodging people and stopping all too often to make way for others. Tony felt more and more nervous, like they were running out of time. It didn't help that there was a huge target painted on the back of his head, so to speak, and he ached to get in contact with J.A.R.V.I.S. again and ask whether the aliens were still tracking Extremis' energy signature, faint as it was in its current state. Tony was amazed they were picking it up at all, and it was likelier they were just following the residual from yesterday's incident.

"What if they attack the base even though we're not here?" Tony asked out loud when they stopped once again, either to let people pass them or for some other reason he couldn't decipher.

"Let's worry about that once we've cleared the area," Natasha replied.

"These people won't be able to fend off an attack," Tony protested. He had already done enough damage as it was… "Are they evacuating?"

"Doesn't look like it," Clint replied. "Look, he has a point," he told the others. "If we brought the aliens here, it's our job to deal with it."

"Keep hobbling," Natasha ordered him and they moved on again.

"We're the goddamn Avengers!" Clint exclaimed loudly and Tony ran into the archer's back where he had abruptly stopped, almost toppling them both over. Bruce tried to salvage the situation by grabbing them both, and Tony took a quick step back to find his own space.

"We'll all be dead if we stay here, should they strike the base," Natasha argued. "We don't have functioning armors, Tony can't see, and you can barely move around without assistance. All we've got are Thor and the Hulk, and they won't be able to defend you while battling off whatever force is coming for us."

"She's not wrong," Rhodey agreed with Natasha.

"We should at least warn these people," Clint kept arguing.

"Fury's here," Natasha pointed out. "He'll know what to do."

Tony wouldn't have bet on it, but it was no use if all of them died here today.

A soft _whoosh_ of engines warned him before someone landed beside them. "What's the hold-up?" Sam Wilson asked.

"Some of us are second-guessing the plan," Natasha replied.

"There's a plan?" Clint grumbled.

"The plan is to get you out of here, just in case," Sam noted. "Also, Tony, your AI is very bossy."

"He gets like that when he's worried and has to talk to someone who isn't me," Tony shrugged.

"Well, I suppose it's fortunate I got this earpiece then," the man said and pushed a tiny device into the palm of Tony's free hand before he could even ask for someone else to grab it for him. He suppressed a shudder and maneuvered the earpiece into his ear, switching it on.

"Talk to me, J," he ordered.

 _"You should hurry, sir,"_ the AI said without wasting time.

"They're still headed our way?"

 _"Yes, sir. Two Category 3 ships have separated from the main force and are approaching faster than predicted."_

"Strike Teams we can handle," Tony decided. "Are they still tracking Extremis?"

 _"Yes, sir."_

"Can you tell whether it's live or just residual from the explosion?"

 _"That I cannot say."_

Tony chewed his lower lip.

"We need to move," Rhodey insisted and grabbed the arm that wasn't still resting on Bruce's.

Tony tensed and stood his ground. "I need to think."

"You can think while we're moving away from the base."

"If they're targeting me directly, it won't matter where we go."

 _"Stark, if you don't start moving I swear I'll come down there and carry you out of this base myself,"_ Steve stated directly into his ear over the comm.

Normally he would have laughed it off, but Tony knew Steve would do it.

"We need to mask Extremis somehow," he decided.

"How about wrapping you in foil?" Clint suggested.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Tony agreed.

"It was a joke…"

"Falcon," Tony called out, "if you're not going to be keeping an eye on the skies, go and find me a roll of aluminum foil."

"Uh… sure," Sam agreed. "Any ideas where I might find some?"

"Try the kitchen," Bruce jumped in.

"Got it," their newcomer confirmed and took off, moving faster in the air than dodging people on the ground.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., keep me updated," Tony ordered as he insisted that they move forward and their little party began walking again.

 _"Of course, sir,"_ the AI replied.

They met Steve and Thor at a garage. Vehicles were being moved around and as they weaved their way over to the others, Tony could hear the bots protesting. "Stay with the group!" Tony called back to them. "Don't get run over."

"I've got it," Rhodey murmured and moved to guide the bots safely to their destination.

"We have secured a carriage for our use," Thor declared.

"A truck," Steve added. "Get the bots in the back."

Bruce guided Tony through the already familiar steps of getting the bots into a transport. He was trying to act as if there was no rush, but Tony could sense the growing anxiousness in his touch.

"We've got this," Tony said. "You can go and wait for the first wave if you want."

"I'd rather stay with the group until we decide a fight is inevitable," Bruce replied, but he did step away from Tony, probably needing a moment to center himself. Tony turned to the bots and felt his way around the vehicle's back, testing the wall. It felt tougher than he had expected and as he knocked the wall, he smiled.

"Is this a shipping container?" he called out to whoever might be listening.

"Yes," Steve replied, not wasting his time.

"Steel walls?"

"Possibly."

Tony nodded. "Call Wilson back. We won't be needing the foil."

He could tell Steve was frowning, but the man had learned not to question him in a pinch.

 _"Sir, the Category 3 aircrafts are almost here,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. notified him.

"We need to get moving," Steve announced almost simultaneously.

Clint and Rhodey moved up to join Tony and the bots. Whatever the plan was or wasn't, Bruce and Thor stayed on the outside with Steve and Natasha, closing the doors of the container.

"Damn it's dark in here," Clint complained almost immediately. He shuffled and shifted, eventually sitting down on the floor, and Tony followed his example.

"Welcome to my world," Tony added dryly.

The box shivered around them as the truck's engine came to life. Rhodey joined them on the floor of the container before they lurched forward, and Tony sighed, trying not to think of how they were about to leave the people of the Los Alamitos base to fend for themselves.

They hadn't driven far before the truck slowed down. An explosion followed swiftly, then another, and another – as well as a roar and a bang of lighting hitting the ground.

"We should be out there," Clint mused.

The truck sped up again.

"Live to fight another day," Tony repeated Rhodey's statement from before.

Rhodey huffed, sounding like he regretted saying it in the first place.

 _"Category 3 ships have been destroyed,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. reported. _"The rest of the squadron is still inbound, but the evacuation of the base is well underway."_

Tony breathed out slowly and relayed the news to his companions.

The drive continued in silence until a steady rumbling started behind them. It grew louder and louder, and the truck obviously sped up to maximum speed, jumping and jerking as if they were suddenly on uneven terrain. The rumbling continued for almost a minute until finally reaching its crescendo, vanishing at a faster pace. Before silence could fall again, it was as if a huge gust of wind came upon them from the same direction as the sound, banging a hail of small rocks against the doors of the container.

"Wonder what that was about?" Clint mused out loud.

The truck slowed down carefully before pulling to a halt. Tony wondered why they were stopping and heard Rhodey getting to his feet, approaching the door. Someone opened it from the outside, letting in dusty air.

"Fucking hell," was the first thing that came out of Rhodey's mouth, shocked and horrified.

"The good thing is, most of the people got out before that happened," Natasha's voice appeared, toneless in a way that suggested she was holding back her emotions.

"What happened?" Tony asked, for obvious reasons.

"The base is gone," Natasha coolly offered an explanation. "Just a crater left where it stood."

Tony suspected that had been the cause of the rumbling. "A bomb?" he asked.

"More like a beam of light from the sky," Steve said, sounding a bit queasy. "It's all just… gone."

"Literally," Rhodey agreed, sounding breathless still. "Did they have a War Ship somewhere nearby?"

"Not that we could see," Sam Wilson's voice came from somewhere on the outside. "Could have been flying higher."

"We've never seen a weapon like that," Natasha mused.

"Did everyone clear the blast radius?" Tony asked. "Thor and the Hulk?"

"They're fine," Sam replied. "The Hulk got caught on the edge of it and is busy digging dust out of his ears, which seems to irritate him. I decided to leave him to it."

"Good idea," Tony agreed. It bugged him more than just a little that he couldn't see what everyone else was witnessing, even though it sounded like some kind of a doomsday weapon. "Could be their version of a nuclear weapon," he ventured to guess. "Any sign of a fallout?" Not that any of them would know before it was too late, because despite their sudden acceleration, the truck couldn't have possibly gotten far enough.

 _"None, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied as if the question had been pointed to him and no one else.

"What's it look like out there?"

 _"The Troop Transfer ships are pulling back, along with their remaining Category 3 escorts. No War Ships detected in the area."_

"So where did the kill shot come from?" he asked, assuming J.A.R.V.I.S. had a better view of things with Hades in the sky.

 _"Space, sir."_

Tony adjusted his earpiece. "Come again?"

 _"Space. More accurately, I believe the beam was fired from the Flag Ship orbiting Earth."_

Tony swallowed. "Any of you hear that?" he asked.

"You talking to J.A.R.V.I.S.?" Steve asked.

 _"I did not wish to alarm the others,"_ the AI explained.

"Good thinking," Tony agreed, aware of how hoarse his voice had gotten.

So far, the lone Category 6 ship had been this huge contraption innocently circling Earth. No one knew why it was there and what its importance was to the alien war effort, but Tony was starting to feel like it was the alien equivalent of a Death Star, pointing its barrel down at them. Whether it's only purpose was to be the ultimate weapon, it was too early to say, but Tony had a feeling their recent actions had just provoked a backlash from the aliens.

A backlash they weren't quite ready to face in their current condition.

With a roar and a thump, the Hulk rejoined their ranks, snarling at no one in particular. A moment later Thor landed on top of the shipping container, Mjolnir thudding heavily against the metal.

"Our enemies have dealt quite a blow today," the Asgardian mused.

"They're drawing back for now," Steve replied. "Either they think we're dead or they simply wanted to make a point."

"I doubt they missed all those people moving away from the base," Natasha challenged his theory.

"Which means this was a demonstration of power," Steve concluded.

Why they had waited this long to deploy such a weapon, Tony didn't know. He also didn't offer his insight just yet.

"Let's move," Steve decided. "Put some distance between us and them, just in case."

No one argued – not even the Hulk who climbed into the container without being asked, sitting down heavily enough to rock the entire vehicle. The bots protested at being jostled around, earning a grunt from the Hulk, and Tony settled in between them just in case.

"Wonder where that shot came from?" Sam started conversationally when the truck started moving again, Steve and Natasha returned to the cabin, the rest of them in the back.

No one answered their newest member, either not wanting to guess – or in Tony's case, needing some time to digest this new development.

* * *

 **Day 179 of the Alien-Human War**

They landed at Edwards Air Force Base, which made Rhodey happy for obvious reasons: he had been stationed here for years, and although the war had changed a lot of things, some things stayed the same.

At the moment of their arrival, the only thing Tony wanted was a bed to sleep in, and the entire team shared that thought. Clint, unfortunately, was taken in for surgery, but Tony supposed that the meds they had been giving him during the flight would make his rest much more fulfilling than most of them would achieve.

While Rhodey forced himself to stay up an extra half an hour to visit with a few people, the others got settled into a shared room. Bruce never really woke up in between the helicopter ride and the bed, nor did anyone try to make him stir; he had more than done his share. Tony's head was pounding by the time he managed to lie down in between Bruce and Steve, the pain so severe he was afraid his skull was going to be full of hairline fractures before it was over.

"You're warm," Steve murmured. Usually it was the other way around, but Tony knew his body was working overtime – Extremis included – to stabilize the stress from the prolonged use of the implants.

"It will be better after a good night's sleep," Tony promised.

Steve nodded and fell silent, his breaths deepening much faster than usual.

When Rhodey stumbled in and found a place for himself to sleep, Tony was the only one to register it. Well, Natasha was another possibility, but no one made a sound or said a word, the need for rest too severe.

Come morning, Bruce was still sleeping when Tony woke up to Steve leaving the bed. As Tony lifted his head, he heard one of the bots whir as well, immediately expecting a command.

"Keep sleeping if you feel like it," Steve murmured, keeping his voice down.

"Why would you even get up?" Tony complained.

"Bathroom," Steve explained.

Tony yawned and shifted, getting comfortable again. The bot went back to sleep mode.

Steve returned a minute later, surprising Tony by coming back to bed. Usually he would stay up and go for a run or something, depending on where they were. This time the super-soldier seemed content to snuggle up and Tony discovered that Steve felt warm against him, meaning that his own body temperature was back to normal. His head still felt like it was waiting for an excuse to start pounding, though, so he settled down and easily slept for a few more hours before he, too, needed to go to the bathroom to relieve his bladder.

Tony had learned a long time ago that if he needed to leave the bed in the middle of the night, he might as well wake up the entire team. Bruce was the only one who could sleep through it – and even then he had to be coming down from an extended transformation. It was ridiculous how all of them knew when Tony was trying to move about, no matter how stealthy he was.

Of course, if he needed to climb over one of them simply to get out of bed, he could kiss all attempts at stealth goodbye.

"Need a hand?" Steve asked, instantly awake when Tony tried to feel out where the super-soldier's body began and ended in order to get around it.

"Just point me to the bathroom," Tony replied.

"I'll take you," came the instant offer – which really wasn't an offer as much as a description of what was going to happen. Tony accepted it as an eventuality and waited for Steve to roll out of bed, then took his arm and followed him out of the room and into a communal bathroom down the hall. There were a few other people present when they walked in, but they left before Tony even found his way around the stall.

As he went through the painstakingly mundane yet surprisingly difficult task of peeing while blind, he heard Steve lean his weight against the stall's outer wall. He could sense that the man wanted to say something.

"I'm doing fine in here," Tony told him, in case Steve was wondering.

"I know," came a slow reply.

"What is it, then?" Tony asked.

"We need to plan ahead," Steve said. "Clint won't be properly moving around on that leg for weeks to come."

"So we get some down-time," Tony offered. "We deserve it, after the last strike."

"I suppose so."

"I know so," Tony stated adamantly. "I need to work on the suits, and for that I need to be able to see in order for it to be efficient. That requires a certain amount of time, as you know."

"Yes," Steve replied, whereas normally he could have just nodded. Well, not that Tony could have seen it through the stall door, but in general. "How's your head?" the other asked after a bit.

"Better," Tony answered instantly. "I'll need a bit more rest before putting on the helmet again, though," he admitted.

"We have the time, now," Steve mused.

"Clint will be fine," Tony reassured him, trying not to think too hard of the memories featuring the broken bone. "He doesn't need his feet to use his bow," he added.

"I suppose not," Steve hummed.

"We did good," Tony added, in case that was unclear. "We're big damn heroes for taking on a group of aliens like that and making it out alive."

"Then how come it feels like it wasn't enough?" Steve asked him, sounding like the thought had kept him awake at night even though Tony knew for a fact he had slept like a log.

"The war isn't won. That's why it feels incomplete," he guessed and finished his business, flushing the toilet and stepping outside. He looked for the sink until Steve took him by the shoulder and gently nudged him in the right direction, and while Tony was washing his hands, he felt Steve's hands drift and adjust his clothing a little bit. It should have been embarrassing and sometimes Tony didn't stand for it at all, but there were also times when he just accepted small gestures like that without a fuss – especially when he wasn't dressed in anything but a t-shirt and boxers and wearing his clothes incorrectly might have caused him to inadvertently flash someone in the hallway.

"Are we really taking in the new guy?" Steve asked him next.

"Wilson?" Tony recalled. He had been tired, but not that tired. "Maybe. Rhodey seemed to like the idea." Of course, Rhodey wasn't part of the original team, but that didn't mean his opinion was any less valid. He had worked hard to become one of the Avengers and more than earned his place among them.

Steve hummed.

"You didn't like him?" Tony asked. "You barely met the guy."

"Oh, he seemed nice," Steve replied. "I just… Things are different now."

Tony knew Steve meant him.

"Let me be the judge of that," Tony decided. "If he fits, he'll have a chance to prove himself. If not, we're not going to force it." After all, adding an unknown element to their team was a complication Tony wasn't looking forward to. He was comfortable with how things were, and a new face was going to change the dynamic for everyone else, whether they admitted it or not.

After Tony was done washing his hands they returned to their room, finding the others awake. Even Bruce was stirring from his stupor, not taking part in the conversation between Natasha, Rhodey and Thor but shifting a bit when Tony sat down on the bed they had been sharing.

"Rise and shine," Tony teased.

Bruce just groaned.

Feeling a bit out of sorts himself, Tony plopped down next to him. Bruce let out a contented sign and pressed a bit closer, then pulled a blanket over them both, clearly intending to nap some more.

"We'll go get breakfast," Rhodey decided. "You two stay here with the bots." He made it sound almost like the bots needed babysitting and of course they took offense, chasing him out the door.

"Settle down," Tony ordered. "Daddy needs his beauty sleep."

The bots rolled back into the spot they had claimed for themselves for the night and stayed there. Tony smiled a bit and felt it echo on Bruce's lips as well when the man pressed even closer to him, his mouth within touching distance of the back of Tony's neck.

They both must have fallen asleep because it was mildly unpleasant to wake up when the rest of the team returned. Bruce grumbled and turned around; Tony imagined him hiding beneath the blankets to steal a few more minutes of shut-eye. Tony was hungry, though, and sat up expectantly, knowing someone would have brought him food.

"Clint's out of surgery and grumpy as ever," Natasha reported.

"Aren't the meds here good enough?" Tony asked.

"Apparently not," Rhodey chuckled as he sat down and lowered a plate of food into Tony's lap.

"They managed to fix up his leg, though?" Tony questioned, knowing that if the injury didn't heal, they would have two cripples on the team and that wouldn't work in their favor.

"It looks promising," Natasha said. "It helped that you didn't try to move him around after the fall."

Tony nodded and searched the plate with his fingers, identifying the food on it before he started eating. No one hurried him or offered to help, knowing that he would ask for assistance if he needed it.

Beside him, Bruce rolled around again, this time ending up with his forehead pressed against Tony's thigh. He made no move to get up, though, and Tony slid his left hand down, finding the scientist wrapped up in blankets save for the top of his head. Smiling, he moved his hand to slowly card through Bruce's hair, guessing he was still coming down from the Hulk's prolonged outing.

"We should rest today," Steve announced after a bit. "We've all earned it – and need it."

There were murmurs of agreement from the team.

"The brass will want to sit down with us at some point," Rhodey noted. Tony knew he was kind of looking forward to that – and at the same time probably dreading it because he had been riding shotgun with the Avengers without the approval of his commanding officers.

"You and I can take care of that," Steve replied. No one argued with that or volunteered to join them, knowing how tense those conversations could get.

Tony focused on eating and petting Bruce's bed-head again, then lay down once he was done with the breakfast, not exactly sleeping but allowing his body to digest the food and minimize his headache for a bit. The team came and went, visiting Clint and laying down in turns. Half a day passed easily like that, but then Bruce rose from his stupor and announced he needed something to eat, and Thor volunteered to guide them to the canteen.

The bots tagged along because Tony knew they would get restless in a new setting, and they decided to take their food outside to minimize the hassle and long looks their little group would draw. Besides, it was nice and sunny outside, driving away the last of the cold from Tony's bones.

As they sat and ate, the bots commentating on the activities around them, a group of runners approached. Tony could tell the leading man apart almost instantly; there was no mistaking Steve's stride, especially when he was running. The two wheezing losers were a mystery, but it was clear there had been no real contest for the winning spot in their race.

"That's a side of you I never thought I'd see," Tony mused. "Lording your super-soldier prowess over lesser men, giving them a taste of the asthmatic kid you used to be."

Steve laughed.

"He's evil," Rhodey said in between inhalations of air, revealing the identity of one of Steve's companions. "I think he was enjoying it."

"I think that was pretty obvious," another male voice concurred, and Tony needed a moment to place it without the sound of helicopter rotors in the background: Sam Wilson.

"You guys need a medic?" Steve asked, not at all winded.

"Fuck you," Rhodey grumbled.

"I take it you guys already had that chat with the brass?" Tony ventured to guess.

"We did," Steve agreed, the gleeful cheer disappearing from his voice.

"Are they going to kick us off their base?" Bruce asked, still munching on the pile of food he had collected from the canteen. Tony didn't need to see it in order to guess that even Thor was impressed.

"No," Rhodey managed to answer, "but for some reason they can't seem to agree whether our mission to Crater Lake was a success or not."

"How can they not agree?" Thor asked. "We won the day."

"They weren't there," Steve retorted, clearly unhappy. "I don't think the issue is the last battle as much as it's our activities in general. They want us back in line, working in tune with the military."

"We tried that in the beginning," Tony reminded him. "It didn't get results."

"I know that," their leader agreed.

"They're still gonna let you use the base, right?" Sam asked.

"Are you worried we'll pack our gear and leave before you have a chance to turn in your Avengers recruitment application?" Tony joked.

"Don't mess with him," Rhodey ordered.

"He ain't wrong," Sam said. "I don't want to blow my one chance at making a difference."

"The only difference you'll most likely be making is getting yourself killed sooner rather than later," Tony deadpanned.

"We've been talking with Sam," Steve spoke up. "His gear enables him to carry another person, which is something we could use."

"Yeah," Rhodey backed him up. "Leaves me and you with more time to punch aliens."

"Well, first we need to get him back into the sky," Tony pondered, sensing that the others had already made up their minds. For all of Steve's concerns that a new face might upset the balance of the team, he seemed to have come to accept Sam – at least in theory. They'd have to wait and see how it worked out. "I have an idea on how to accomplish that," Tony continued with his previous train of thought.

"Care to share?" Bruce asked, still eating. He sounded like he was ready to plop down and sleep some more once he was done stuffing his face, and Tony would gladly let him do that because the Hulk had been invaluable in their last battle and deserved a good rest.

"My Long Beach factory is right around the corner. We'll have the necessary files, materials and tech there to fix up Falcon's gear as well as the armors," Tony detailed.

"That's true," Rhodey agreed, a positive pitch to his voice. Maybe he liked the idea of staying in the familiar area where they had lived before the war, or just hadn't thought of the obvious answer to their dilemma.

"I appreciate this," Sam said with a bit more humility than usual.

"You'll repay me, don't you worry," Tony replied.

"Yes, sir," Sam responded, and it was definitely tongue-in-cheek this time.

"You'll start by earning your place on the team," Tony specified. "It will be the deadliest internship in the world. No refunds and limited backsies."

"If you get my wings working." The guy had the nerve to make it sound like he doubted Tony's skills.

"Oh, they'll work," Tony promised. "Better than ever. You'll all be amazed."

"Alright, settle down," Rhodey chuckled. "Don't go promising something you might not be able to deliver. It's not like you can work night and day anymore…"

While it was true that the implants made working a challenge since they failed to simulate actual eyesight, it was still infinitely better than nothing. The only drawback was the amount of rest Tony required in between.

Bruce yawned loudly beside him and Tony assumed it was time to head back indoors. "Time for another nap?" he asked his fellow scientist.

"I think so," Bruce admitted. "Will you join me?"

"Why not," Tony decided. "I can lie down and dictate to J.A.R.V.I.S., prepare for tomorrow."

"You think we should head out to the factory so soon?" Steve asked.

"I want to get started on repairs, seeing as I can't work 24/7 anymore," Tony shrugged. "We can camp out there just as well as here – unless Clint isn't stable enough to move."

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," Steve mused. "Frankly, I think he's going a bit stir-crazy, cooped up in the infirmary."

"That settles it, then," Thor stated.

"I'll let the others know," Steve agreed.

"Just to make sure: I'm coming with you, right?" Sam asked.

"I suppose you are," Steve said. "I hope you're sure about this. There might be no going back."

"That will be on my head, not yours," Sam said briskly. "You warned me and I wanted to join up anyway."

"You're getting no special treatment, though," Tony warned him. "You don't fit in, our arrangement expires."

There was a pause, then a firm: "Alright." Tony guessed Sam had just nodded and then remembered Tony couldn't see it. "I'm not expecting much. Just give me a chance."

"That we can do," Rhodey promised. "Welcome to the Avengers."

Tony assumed Sam shook hands with Steve and Rhodey and shifted his own attention to getting to his feet and motioning for the bots while Bruce settled at his side and waited for Tony to take his arm.

"Am I expected to do that, too?" Sam asked, his voice lowered to a point that was probably supposed to escape Tony's range of hearing.

"No," Steve replied faster than he expected. "Not yet, anyway."

"It's fine either way," Sam said quickly. "Just, tell me what to do. I don't want to step on anyone's toes." It was clear he had his feelers out, already watching the nuances of the team, seeking approval and his own place in the hierarchy.

"With Tony, you can expect to feel like you have stepped on his toes even though you have not," Thor stated. "He does not always accept his situation – nor embrace it."

"Would you?" Tony shot back.

"Nay," Thor agreed. "We are all here to help," he added.

"And I keep telling you that I don't always need the help – although it is appreciated," he amended, knowing that without his team he was as good as screwed. Whether Sam would fit right in or cause unseen friction, it was too early to say, but Tony wasn't going to treat him any different from the others. In fact, his treatment was probably going to be harder because Tony didn't know him, nor did he trust him yet. He supposed the first time they fought together would change that, because it had definitely sped things up between him and the rest of the team even before he got blinded.

 _to be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9: Mirrors - Smoke

**Chapter 9: Mirrors / Smoke**

* * *

 **Day 201 of the Alien-Human War**

The ocean was perpetual, ceaseless in its tug-of-war against the shoreline. A continuous roar rose and fell depending on the direction of the wind, yet it was always there, just as tireless as the ocean itself.

Tony felt small waves wash over his bare feet, over and over. It was a distraction he had sought out on purpose; whenever he was hitting a wall inside his head, it was best to focus on something else – or several things – and eventually he might just find the answer to his original dilemma.

Further up the beach, the rest of the team was speaking in low tones. One after another they had offered to come join him, some of them even sitting down beside him for a time, but they eventually took the hint and left him alone.

The bots were moving up and down the shoreline, and a pile of seashells, stones, and other garbage was piling up next to Tony. He couldn't see them, but every once in a while the bots insisted he touch one of them when it was more special than the rest. It was easier to go along with it than fight them.

He must have already been sitting there for a few hours when a vehicle drove down to the beach. Tony listened to its approach, tilting his head to block out the ocean wind, and tracked the progress of the vehicle until it halted, engine cut off, and a group of people got out. Only one of them set out towards the Avengers.

"I see you all got out safely," the newcomer said and Tony turned back towards the ocean. It was Fury. He really shouldn't have been surprised. "What's going on with Grumpy over there?" the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. asked.

"He's thinking," Steve replied.

"Of new ways to win the war, I hope," Fury stated and then walked over to Tony.

Tony didn't acknowledge him, but Fury seemed to know his presence had been noted. He stopped beside him – then dug into the bots' pile next to him and selected something from it.

"Don't," Tony warned before the bots could take notice. "It's a collection."

Whatever Fury had picked up – probably a stone – fell back onto the pile. "We need to talk, Stark."

"Then talk."

Fury waited a spell. Maybe he just didn't know how to talk to Tony anymore – or maybe he was very carefully selecting his words for maximum effect. "It was a near thing we didn't all die at Los Alamitos today," he finally said.

"Most people got out, right?" Tony asked.

"Almost everyone. Not all of those people cleared the blast radius in time, though."

Tony blinked his unseeing eyes against the wind.

"I know you didn't see that thing coming down from the sky, but a whole lot of other people did," Fury went on. "They want answers. They'll want them even more once they're done cleaning their pants."

Tony allowed his lips to twist into a brief smile at the analogy. "You think I have answers?"

"If I had to go to someone for information, that someone would be you. At least, it used to be." The blow was unmistakable and uncharacteristically low.

"You're scared," Tony guessed. "You're afraid they're going to aim that weapon and wipe us off the map, one city at a time."

"Not an unrealistic fear at this point," Fury groused.

Tony breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. "I'll let you know when I've got something," he promised.

He felt Fury's eye on him, piercing, searching for the answer he refused to give him. "This isn't the time to play it close to the chest," he finally said, as if knowing Tony was hiding something from him. Or maybe he was just hoping Tony took it that way, leaving it to chance.

"My usefulness is directly tied to the things I know and can do," Tony replied ruefully. "I see no point in playing all my cards at once."

"Does one of those cards say the aliens were aiming at you with that thing?" Fury challenged him. "That all the people who died, or die from this moment on, are collateral damage?"

Tony bit his tongue, knowing that Fury was counting on him to get angry and lash out, letting something slip. "We don't know any of that for sure."

"But we know they were tracking Extremis," Bruce's voice drifted in from a lot closer than he had been a while ago. Tony couldn't really hear him walking in the soft sand but he sensed his presence nearing them. Whether or not he was going to back him up against Fury, well…

"Why?" Fury asked.

"We don't know," Bruce replied. "Could be they're mistaking one thing for another. If they were directly tracking Tony, why didn't they know he had already left the base? I doubt the metal walls of the container shielded him that much."

"Maybe it was a test, or a statement," Tony mused. "We dealt them a blow, and now they're hitting us back."

Silence followed as they all considered the possibility. It was hard to tell what kind of a loss was an actual blow to the aliens – and how they would respond.

One of the bots rolled over, possibly with a new discovery. Fury had to take a step away – he was obviously in the bot's way – and Tony turned his face towards the robot, smiling a bit. They had been through so much, yet here they were, collecting shells and stones like little kids during a day at the beach…

The bot in question whirred and Tony could almost feel its claw rising to the level of his face, almost within touching distance. His smile widened in response to the mental image, and the bot shifted forward, sandy claw brushing against his cheek.

"We need –" Fury started.

"Not right now," Tony cut him off.

"But –"

"Not now!" Tony snapped, leaning away from the bot. "I need to catch my breath. I need…"

He needed to see again, somehow. He needed to be able to fight, to strike back – to end this war. As long as he couldn't find a way to do that, he might as well sit here in the sand, the ocean washing over his toes.

As if on cue, a soft hum of thrusters approached, and Tony felt his heartbeat quicken slightly. He listened to the familiar sound of an armor approaching, then felt a light spray of water on his face as it must have settled down right in front of his feet.

 _"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice acknowledged him. _"We need to talk."_

"Get in line," Fury huffed.

 _"Alone,"_ the AI continued adamantly. The armor strode out of the water onto the sand, stopping beside Tony.

"You heard him," Tony said and stood up, turning his body towards the armor.

He knew it was Hades – Mark 54 – since he didn't really have any other fully operational armors right now. J.A.R.V.I.S. had kept it patrolling the skies, but for some reason the AI had felt the need to come down in person, so to speak.

"Let's take a walk," Tony decided, reaching out, and the suit's arm moved to meet his hand, grounding him immediately.

"Stark…" Fury tried one more time.

"Later," Tony told him and started walking, the armor moving smoothly next to him. Before long, the bots moved to follow them, and theirs were the only sounds besides the continuous murmur of the ocean.

 _"They are not following,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him after a while, meaning the team and Fury.

"Good," Tony sighed. "Where's the fire? Does the suit need maintenance?" He hoped not since he was once again trapped in the eternal darkness.

 _"Mark 54 is fine, sir,"_ the AI replied.

"Then what is it?"

A brief silence followed. J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't actually require a moment to collect his thoughts, but it was a human trait he had adopted over the years. It made him more like a person, and Tony had no reason to correct it. _"I was… concerned, sir,"_ the AI said.

"Why?" Tony asked.

 _"With the others armors gone, my connection to you was… weaker than I liked."_

"I'm fine," Tony said, even though he really wasn't.

 _"I know."_ J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded like this bothered him a bit. _"Logically, I know you are safe with the team, and with an established line of communication, there is no radical change. I just…"_

"Spit it out," Tony ordered softly.

 _"Without the suits,_ I _cannot not protect you,"_ the AI admitted. _"I know the Avengers are more than capable, but it is… It is my task. It is my purpose. I have failed in it so many times."_

"You've done well," Tony reassured him. "You're not responsible for my wellbeing."

 _"But I am, sir."_

Tony sighed. "I created you. If anyone's responsible for someone else, that would be me."

 _"That is not why you created me,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. argued.

"I created you as the next upgrade from the bots; to see what else I could do with a learning artificial intelligence. I made you to assist me, a conduit between my work and myself, and that's what you've done. It's what you're still doing."

The armor stopped walking suddenly and Tony was momentarily frightened that they had walked too far and landed themselves in some kind of danger. He could not hear anything that suggested a threat, other than You getting stuck in the wet sand once again and requiring the other bot to pull him free. Tony was tired of telling them to stay away from the water's edge; they were like children, chasing the waves and backing away again when they came towards the shore until they ultimately lost and got their feet wet.

 _"You have allowed me to grow,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. mused after his dramatic, thoughtful pause. _"I am so much more than I used to be – and I know my limits are more of an abstract term than an actual physical boundary."_ Tony heard the armor move, felt it shift towards him. He could almost sense the glowing eyes on him. _"I want to evolve, sir. I want to have initiative. I know I can do that."_

"Then do it," Tony shrugged. "Albeit this is probably the worst time to be doing it…" He tried not to show fear or concern; evolution for an AI could mean a dozen different things, most of which even his mind couldn't even conjure up. "I still need you, though," he added, just to make it clear – to remind J.A.R.V.I.S. of his true purpose.

 _"I know,"_ the AI replied. _"I need you, too. I am not intending to leave."_

A weight fell away from Tony's chest. "Okay." He shifted, toes sinking into the sand. "What were you thinking, then?"

 _"You want to end the war – to defeat the aliens,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. stated.

"I do."

 _"You need to be able to see again,"_ the AI went on listing.

"That would be incredibly helpful," Tony said, making light of the most serious issue in his life. If he allowed himself to wallow too deeply in it, he might just decide never to get out of bed again.

 _"I need to keep you safe,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. added. _"That is what I want. I want to protect you."_

Tony smiled. "I appreciate that." He knew he had his team backing him up, but he and J.A.R.V.I.S. were… Well, it was different. Not just because he created the AI – or maybe that was why – but because they had a different understanding between them. It was J.A.R.V.I.S.'s business to know all there was to know about Tony, and in return, Tony had a very firm grasp on what J.A.R.V.I.S. was, and why he was that way.

Even when his AI kept surprising him.

 _"The aliens are changing their approach,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. went on, following a logic Tony wasn't quite grasping yet. He knew it would make sense sooner or later.

"It was just one such strike," Tony argued, thinking back to the destruction of Los Alamitos. He had a hard time picturing it, not having seen it with his own eyes. Like the extinction of the dinosaurs or the destruction of Pompeii… "We've been pushing back at them, but it shouldn't affect their overall war-effort just yet." A few counter-attacks didn't win them the war, but it was a good start.

 _"If you say so, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

"You sound like you disagree."

 _"As the saying goes, we are all entitled to our own opinion."_

"Do you know something I do not?" Tony asked.

 _"I see something that you do not."_

"Way to make it sting, J…"

 _"My apologies for the ill-timed figure of speech,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. atoned. _"Still, it is a fitting imagery. I have been using a lot of time to monitor the aliens, on your orders and otherwise. The pattern is clear: they are searching for something."_

"Extremis." Tony frowned. "It doesn't make sense. Maybe they're just confused."

 _"In the battle of Long Beach, you did something they did not expect; you didn't just lay back and die when they had you on the ropes. Whatever their reasons were to attack you in the first place, you have proven to them that you are a threat – which they are now attempting to eliminate with brute force."_

"Their aim sucks," Tony huffed. "For a species capable of space travel, they seem awfully incompetent at taking over such a primitive planet as ours."

 _"Perhaps they are facing a similar problem as with pest control: their work is never truly done."_

"Are you comparing us to rodents and bed bugs?" Tony asked, mildly amused.

 _"I am certain you understood the gist of it, sir."_

"Yeah, I guess I did," he admitted. "How do we go from being a pest to the king of the jungle?"

 _"That I do not know, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. admitted. _"We could begin by devising a plan to destroy the Category 6."_

"A lot of people have tried that already."

 _"Yet none of them are as motivated as you, if I may say so."_

Well, that was true. Tony, literally, had very little left to lose. He had vowed to himself, time and time again, that he would finish this war even if it killed him. For Pepper… "I don't know where to begin," he admitted.

 _"One step at a time,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. reassured him. _"First, we need to overcome the newest setback with the implants."_

Tony sighed. "Let me know when you've come up with something," he said. It wasn't as if Tony himself wasn't thinking of it, but the darkness seemed to inhibit his mind, especially when it came to solving the problem behind his blindness. J.A.R.V.I.S. had originally devised the implants, and while Tony didn't dare to hope for another such feat…

 _"I will, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied as if it were just a matter of time.

Tony tried not to feel skeptical, but he must have failed, seeing as the AI lifted one of the armor's hands and carefully rested it on his face. It wasn't a comfortable touch, nor something Tony had experienced regularly in his years as Iron Man, but at that moment it offered more comfort than he could have imagined.

 _"Do not despair, sir,"_ the AI said, voice low. _"We will find a way."_

Tony nodded his head, the armored fingers pressing into his skin as he moved. On a whim he raised his own hand, touching the faceplate, feeling out the familiar contours. The metal alloy was a pleasant temperature under his touch, the sun warming it up.

Slowly, the armor shifted, leaning forward, and Tony closed his eyes and breathed in and out as he felt the armor's forehead touch his own. It was such a simple gesture and it didn't feel strange in a way it would have felt before. After all, it wasn't just one of his armors right now, but an embodiment of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s presence next to him.

Tony fully expected the bots to roll in and try to get in there as well, to participate in the moment, but that didn't happen. He suspected his AI might have told them to wait for their turn, which was kind of funny and exactly the kind of childish behavior that sometimes went on between them.

"I think I'm going to build you a body," Tony mused.

 _"Sir?"_

"I think you'd enjoy it. You're becoming more physically expressive."

 _"Would that not be restrictive, being confined into one form?"_

"You're controlling this suit right now. Do you feel confined?"

 _"No, but that is because I am elsewhere, too."_

"Did I ever say you would _only_ have to hang out in your new body?" Tony asked, smiling a bit.

 _"Is this an insinuation that you don't like me controlling your suits, sir?"_

"No," Tony chuckled. "Well, maybe. But not really: I just think it's time we tried that, and besides…"

 _"Yes?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked a bit impatiently.

"That way, you can protect me even better," Tony decided. Of course there was still the issue of him being blind and their impossible task of fixing that – again. He also needed to work on suits for him and Rhodey. Plus there was the whole threat of an alien super-weapon floating in orbit…

 _"I have a few ideas for my new body,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. announced.

Tony had to laugh. "Already?" It was another testament to how the mind of an AI moved, not constricted to a single organic brain.

 _"Yes,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said simply. _"Also, I think I would like to wear a cape."_

Tony frowned. "Why?"

 _"It has a certain majestic flair to it."_

Tony wasn't certain whether J.A.R.V.I.S. was taking after him or was just spending too much time looking at Thor. "Capes are ridiculous," Tony stated. "They get in the way of things." He sighed. "But, if you really want one…"

 _"Thank you, sir."_

"No cape on the armor, though!" Tony added, just in case his AI got ahead of himself.

 _"I wouldn't dream of it, sir."_

The bots chirped.

"No capes for you, either," Tony stated. "You already get stuck whenever I turn my back."

He received sharp retorts, but he was just being practical. Unlike J.A.R.V.I.S. – or Thor.

 _"We should head back,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. mused. _"Agent Barton is approaching."_

Tony nodded and wriggled his toes in the sand, waiting for the other man to reach them.

"Are you done hugging it out?" Clint called out a moment later. He sounded a bit out of breath and Tony guessed walking in the soft sand with a healing fracture was painful as well as tiring. How the others had even let him come all this way, he didn't know.

"I think I've gotten it out of my system," Tony shrugged one shoulder, not bothering to state that there had been no actual hugging.

Clint halted, taking a deep breath to even out his breathing. "Good," he murmured.

"Is there news?" Tony asked.

"Not yet," Clint replied. "The guys are wondering what we're going to do next." Clearly he was asking Tony, which was a little funny, seeing as Fury was also present.

Tony thought about it for a moment. "There is one place I want to go visit, seeing as we're here."

"Okay," the archer replied. "Then what?"

"Then we start over," Tony decided.

"Sounds tiresome."

"Sometimes you need to climb a mountain twice to truly appreciate the journey," Tony stated sagely.

"Who said that?" Clint grumbled, clearly not looking forward to any kind of climbing in the near future.

"Me," Tony said and started walking back towards the others – or so he thought; the armor gently took him by the shoulders and guided him a little more to the left. J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't offer him its arm, though, and Clint swiftly assumed that task. Between him limping and Tony walking blindly, their pace was evenly matched.

"Did you come up with anything new?" Clint asked after a while. "Any new theories on the aliens' apparent interest in you?"

"Nope," Tony said.

"There's got to be something," Clint insisted.

"Maybe it doesn't matter," Tony snapped – then thought twice about it. "Actually, maybe that's it."

"What's what?" Clint asked, confused.

"Maybe it doesn't matter what it's really about," Tony went on. "It's like war propaganda. You use it, even if it isn't real. We don't know what they want or why they want it – whether it's me or the Avengers or something totally unrelated. We'll take what we want from it and make it ours. We'll embody their supposed fear as a team and use it to strike back."

"Okay…" Clint didn't sound like he was buying it.

"It's not a bad idea," Steve's voice carried over to them, and Tony could hear the others moving closer. "We've been so focused on figuring out what the aliens want that it has slowed us down and thrown us off the mark. All we need to know is that there is an enemy that we're about to fight. An enemy that may well be afraid of something we have, or something we can do." Tony was aware of Steve's eyes resting on him, rather pointedly. "The answers will come on their own, or they won't. We can't bury our heads in the sand and wait for an epiphany."

"We can't pointlessly attack them, though," Bruce protested. "We need a plan – one that actually works, preferably."

"Then let's start by doing something others have failed to accomplish all this time," Tony suggested.

"Which is?" Fury asked. Of course he was still there.

"Destroy the Flag Ship," Tony laid it out for his team.

Silence followed.

"How?" Rhodey asked. "No one's gotten close enough to even scratch the paint on that thing."

"Plus no one knows what its purpose is – if it has any," Sam added. "Unless you know something we don't?"

Tony hesitated.

"Do you trust us?" Natasha asked. Of course it was her – the person Tony, as a rule, would have trusted the least on their team.

Tony took a deep breath. Choices needed to be made, and it would be no use staring into a mirror later telling himself _'I told you so'_. A mirror he couldn't presently even see.

"The weapon that destroyed the base was fired from the Flag Ship," he said, keeping it slow in case someone wasn't paying attention from the start.

"Are you sure?" Fury asked.

"I had a suit in the sky when it happened. It wasn't a Category 5, and none of the other ships have that much fire power," Tony declared.

A strained silence followed.

"Fuck," Sam muttered.

"Still glad you decided to join the Avengers?" Rhodey teased him.

"I knew it was going to be crazy when I signed up, but…"

"We need to destroy it," Steve said, steering them back on track.

"Aye," Thor agreed.

"How?" Clint asked. "It's in space, not to mention protected against missile strikes."

 _"Do not fret, Agent Barton,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said. _"Mr. Stark will figure it out."_

Tony felt like grumbling that the pressure wasn't exactly helping, but he knew it was true: he was going to figure out how to blast that damn thing into a million little pieces – and then he would move on to wipe out the rest of them.

* * *

 **Day 181 of the Alien-Human War**

There was much work to do, and as much as Tony would have liked to just enjoy being back in a semi-familiar environment, there was no time to waste.

Stark Industries headquarters in Long Beach had never been a place where he built the armors, but it had suitable tech to move around so that J.A.R.V.I.S. could take on some of the responsibility after Tony hit the implants' limit. In the meanwhile, when he could work, he had the ideal database, tools, and materials at his disposal to fix up the armors and then pull up the specs for EXO-7 Falcon wing suit.

In the past when Tony had worked, normally it was very much spur of the moment; once he had a project in mind, he worked tirelessly on it, pushing his body in order to get as much work done as possible before he crashed.

Now, with the implants limiting his seeing hours, he had to carefully schedule his every move. The less demanding mechanical tasks, part fabrications and calculations he left for J.A.R.V.I.S. and Rhodey, especially when he could guide their work based on verbal description.

Even with the implants, working was a challenge Tony had to adapt to on the fly; the way the implants depicted the world around him was fine when navigating a room or even flying into battle, but operating machinery and making sense of the layers of wiring and circuitry was another thing entirely. It was like re-learning the processes he had mastered since he was four years old, and the only reason why he got anything done was muscle memory and reasoning with himself over and over that no matter what it looked like, he knew what he was doing.

Sam Wilson's gear was a bit more complex, and Tony moved to work on it as soon as he could. Rhodey was handy with the armors – especially his own – so he let him do more than he otherwise might have.

Outside Tony's framework of work and rest, the rest of the team was making use of the downtime. They trained and rested, ate well, and repaired their own gear as much as they could. Tony took a few hours to show Clint a bit more of his arrow mechanics so that he could manufacture them with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s help.

Within the well-oiled routine of the team, Sam was actively trying to find his place. Tony had to hand it to the guy for really making an effort, but he wondered whether it would stay the same after their first real mission together.

Being himself, he of course brought it up when Sam came in for a fitting of his new and improved flight gear.

"I'm not gonna lie," Sam said. "I'm a bit nervous about whatever you decide to do next."

"Nervous is better than terrified," Tony mused.

"It's not the first time I'll be flying into combat – or even facing off against aliens," Sam went on to explain, as if he needed to clarify his answer. "Sure, I would rather go back home and chill on my couch, a beer in hand, but since that's not an option I'd rather try and be where it matters, doing what I can."

"There are plenty of other places to fight than with us," Tony noted.

"But you're the tip of the spear," Sam stated.

"The tip of the spear takes the brunt of the strike. If it doesn't get chipped off…"

"I already got the life expectancy speech from Widow," the other man grunted, shifting a little as he tightened the flight suit around his form. Tony watched him through the implants, the confident way he checked the fastenings and new features.

"Want to take it out for a spin?" Tony asked.

"If I crash and burn, expect a call from my lawyers," Sam joked and turned towards the hangar doors of the building. Tony followed him outside, staying back as Sam moved through the few pre-flight settings before eventually spreading his wings – literally – and activating the brand new thrusters.

Much like Tony's first attempt at testing the armor's thrusters back in the day, Sam seemed taken aback by the new output. The shout that escaped his throat as he shot up to the sky was not one of terror, however, but something akin to excitement and the adrenaline rush Tony was quite familiar with.

Sam took his time in the sky, testing out the wings. He made a show of performing acrobatics after growing accustomed to the slight changes Tony had made, and Tony could see why he had stayed alive this long: he was fast and agile in a way the armors could only dream of. He didn't have much protection against any kind of attack, but if they couldn't hit him…

Tony frowned. The dangers of fighting aliens head-on were much greater than being targeted by a couple weapons. He hoped Sam realized that before it was too late.

His head began to ache as he watched Sam's continued acrobatics, reminding him that he was approaching the limit of his daily usage of the implants. He had worked extra hard today, knowing that even the few days they had spent at his factory was holding them back from their next move – whatever it would be.

They still needed to decide where to take the fight after the battle of Crater Lake.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., turn off the machinery," Tony called out.

 _"Yes, sir,"_ the AI replied through an earpiece, not yet reminding Tony that he should take off the helmet. He knew it was coming soon, though, so Tony decided to be proactive for once and did it before he could be prompted.

As the helmet disconnected from the implants, the world went abruptly dark. Tony had anticipated it, though, so it caused him minimal distress.

 _"Shall I send for someone to guide you back to the housing complex?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

"Someone who isn't busy," Tony agreed.

The air stirred, washing over him like a startled gust of wind, and then he heard the thrusters coming to life briefly before touchdown, something landing on the ground with a barely audible grunt. He hated to admit it but Sam and his Falcon wings had more stealth than one of the suits.

"The whole pack seems lighter although it's sturdier. The wings have more give in tight turns," Sam listed. "I was afraid they would break off if I pressed too hard…"

"They won't," Tony promised. "They'll give you more maneuverability."

"I noticed." Sam hesitated, his feet shifting. "I see you took the helmet off."

"I did," Tony replied.

"Need some help getting back to your quarters – or wherever you're headed next?"

"I have help on the way," Tony stated wryly. It wasn't as if he could just go and walk back on his own – he didn't know the factory area _that_ well. He didn't like feeling helpless, though, or others implying that he was.

"Well, I could…" Sam started again. "No use standing around here, doing nothing."

"It's fine," Tony told him. "You can go."

"Is the problem that you don't trust me to lead you?" Sam challenged.

"Maybe," Tony offered, not bothering to come up with a better excuse. "You're a newbie."

"The sooner I learn, the better," Sam said, and then he was right there in Tony's space, nudging him with his arm. He should have been commended for not simply taking Tony's hand and placing it on his forearm, which was what most people tried at first. Tony guessed he had been watching the others and taking notes – or one of the Avengers had given him a few pointers.

Tony hesitated, the fingers of his other hand gripping the helmet more tightly. Sam nudged him again, the touch lighter this time, inviting.

It was logical that sooner or later Tony would have to trust their new recruit, and he supposed allowing Sam to guide him was the easiest step. They had all been sleeping in the same quarters since arriving at the Long Beach factory, and even though it had made the general mood a bit uneasy at first, Sam wasn't making a lot of noise, keeping to himself when it served him better than pushing himself into their company.

Tony hooked his fingers around his arm and nodded, and Sam started walking slowly, clearly not feeling comfortable enough to move faster. He didn't ask whether Tony was doing okay, and every time they had to avoid a collision with something – be it the doorframe of the hangar or a vehicle parked outside – he warned Tony in advance.

"You don't need to be so stiff," Tony told him after a bit. "I'm used to this, believe it or not."

Sam didn't start walking faster, and he let out a hasty hum after being silent a spell too long, indicating he had most likely nodded in response before remembering Tony couldn't see it.

"So, how are you fitting in?" Tony asked. "Is it weirder than you thought?"

"Being surrounded by a bunch of superheroes – or finding out you're surprisingly normal people?" Sam chuckled. "I feel like a kid who just upgraded to the cool circles without actually having much to back it up."

"You're doing okay."

"Thanks."

"Is it weird for you?" Tony asked, deciding he didn't want to beat around the bush. Not being able to see stripped him of the easiest way to read a person – watching them – and he had a hard time reaching certain conclusions.

"What?" Sam asked, pretending to be oblivious if he truly had no idea what Tony was going for.

"The way we are in our downtime," Tony supplied. "I'd figured it would be a little awkward, at least."

"Oh, you mean the way you all randomly share a bed with each other? It was a bit weird for the first two nights, but I've gotten over it since. Rhodey explained it to me."

"What did he say?" Tony asked, curious.

"That you had nightmares in the beginning, and it became a routine afterwards. Frankly, I get it. You're tight, and there isn't a whole lot of comfort going around while you're out there. I'm just wondering if that will keep me from actually becoming part of the team for real, even if everything else works out."

Tony refused to lie to him, or even give him a positively false prediction. "You're an outsider. It's gonna take time."

"Yeah," Sam replied, then suddenly slowed down.

"Hi," Bruce's voice called out. "I was just coming to get you."

"Rookie beat you to the punch," Tony responded.

"Do you want me to take over?" Bruce asked, his words clearly directed at Sam.

Tony felt the newcomer's arm shift, as if preparing to hand him over, but he decided to give him a chance and followed the motion, holding onto him. "We're good," he answered for Sam.

He was fairly certain Sam smiled in response before they set off again, Bruce chatting about the things he had done while Tony had been putting finishing touches on the flight rig.

"We're having dinner in a little bit," Bruce said when they had to be near the housing unit. "Wash up and get ready."

"Sure," Tony replied.

Sam led him inside, a bit more awkward in the confined space but doing an admirable job. Not even once did he let Tony bump into anything, overly cautious about it. Well, it didn't hurt his chances of becoming part of the team, and Tony eventually told him to get himself ready, to let him off the hook.

"You need any help washing up?" Sam asked, even though he sounded like he was reaching the edge of his comfort zone. Maybe he wasn't ready to help, or just thought he didn't know how.

"I'll be fine," Tony reassured him.

"I've got it," Natasha's voice came out of nowhere, startling Tony. "Sorry," she murmured, patting his shoulder as she brushed against him. "I need a shower, and you smell like you could use one, too."

Sam made no comment, but Tony wished he could have seen his face.

Natasha helped Tony into the bathroom, then waited patiently as Tony stripped. It was slower when he tried to keep track of where his clothes landed, even though he was changing into a clean outfit after showering. Once he was naked, Natasha took his arm and guided him into the stall. It was a tight fit for two people, but Tony knew it also minimized the danger of him slipping and falling, or misplacing showering products.

"Hello," Tony said out loud. "Fancy meeting you here."

Natasha chuckled. "You're not really surprised, are you?"

"Do you shower with all the guys, or is it just me?" he asked, grinning.

"You're the only one who keeps his eyes to himself," Natasha responded. It could have been harsh, but her tone was warm and light, and Tony accepted it for what it was. Maybe she was being honest, who knew. Besides, their arrangement was that they mostly washed themselves, with Natasha simply handing him the right bottles – or if she was feeling particularly emotional, she sometimes washed Tony's hair for him, or his back.

For Tony, showering with Natasha was possibly the only time he had been in close proximity of a naked lady and didn't feel the need to get aroused – because what else had been expected of him? The brush of Natasha's body against his was comfortable, and he wasn't afraid she would castrate him even if he got excited by the proximity; it was simply pleasant to be close to her, the same way he felt about all members of his team, even though Natasha was always somewhat special. Being naked next to her should have been somewhat worrisome, especially when Tony didn't know whether he could fully trust her, but he experienced none of those doubts in these situations. It was as if the intimate safety and the harsh battlefield – and the choices that happened on it – were not part of the same world at all.

They got out and dried themselves, then changed places with Steve and Thor who had just been working out, soon followed by Rhodey and Clint who had obviously been working on their respective gear.

"The armors are almost complete," Rhodey told Tony in passing. "Just superficial fixes left."

Tony nodded. "I'll tackle those tomorrow."

After everyone had showered and changed, they headed out to a space that served as the canteen. The war had forced some changes into where everything was located at the factory, and the canteen was also one of the many shelters in case of an attack.

Many SI employees were present, enjoying their own dinners, but none of them bothered the Avengers. Whether it was out or respect or because of Tony, he didn't know, but he reminded himself yet again to tell these people what great work they were doing, coming to work every day, working tirelessly to provide the world with the things they needed the most – not weapons for the armies, but the means for the ordinary citizen to survive, from water purifiers to disease containment.

Not that he didn't have factories that were conducting weapons research and manufacturing with the sole purpose of ending this war.

If only they could conceive a weapon that would finally solve their extraterrestrial problem.

 _to be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10: Conquer - Divide

**Chapter 10: Conquer/ Divide**

* * *

 **Day 203 of the Alien-Human War**

The grass beneath his shoes was a bit on the dry side, scratchy and reluctantly yielding under pressure. It created a steady sound as they walked, occasionally broken by the crunch of gravel as they crossed from grass to a pathway. It was obvious Natasha preferred the softness of grass, and Tony was not about to get picky; he didn't know where exactly they were or how to get around should he be left alone.

Not that he expected her to abandon him. Just because she had done that once, and even then it hadn't been entirely on purpose…

"We're almost there," Natasha said softly, and Tony nodded to indicate he'd heard. Her arm under his hand was a steady guide, speaking to him in tiny motions to warn about uneven terrain or an upcoming turn. She was never as vocal as the others, counting on Tony to read her body language.

A lazy wind blew across the open land. It smelled a bit like it might rain later in the day. The leaves of a nearby tree rustled softly, mimicking the sound of raindrops, and Tony wondered if in ancient times people had perhaps believed the trees had the power of rain-dance, to summon much-needed nourishment from the sky.

How easy had it been, believing everything was tied together by a magical thread, and that your prayers might be answered or dismissed, one's fate pulled out of their own hands?

"We're here," Natasha murmured and slowed down, Tony matching her pace to the best of his ability.

Tony had always believed in forging his own path – even more so after the lessons he learned during his captivity in Afghanistan.

Even now…

What would a blind man do with a forge other than burn himself and set something on fire, though? Or was the forge an illusion that was holding Tony back, stopping him from reaching beyond the methods he was used to employing?

Natasha moved slightly to the side and knelt down, prompting Tony to awkwardly follow her lead. His free hand landed on a cool stone when he reached down to balance himself, and he felt Natasha sweeping aside dried leaves and twigs. Once she was satisfied, she stood back up, extracting her arm from Tony's light grip. "I'll leave you to it for a bit," she said, and Tony nodded, folding his legs to kneel down on the ground, leaving his hands free to explore the stone.

After a while, his searching fingers located words etched into the stone, the edges lacking finesse as if someone had been in a hurry when carving the message, or lacking proper tools.

 _Virginia Potts._

There was no additional message that usually accompanied the name of the deceased. Just a name carved into the stone.

Tony closed his eyes and traced the name with his fingertips, over and over, memorizing it. He detected dates further down the stone, but he only lingered on the latter, scratching open the scar in his mind all over again.

"I've made mistakes," he murmured. "You'd know…" He huffed, able to imagine Pepper's expression. "Two of them have been more crucial than the rest: underestimating the aliens – and overestimating myself."

The day Pepper died, they had clung to the idea that the Category 3 would pass them by. Tony had been cautious, but allowed Pepper to reassure him to lay low, to wait it out. In his mind, he could still recall the approach of the engines, hovering over the house… It had been too late to save her by the time they struck.

To this day, all of them kept hoping that attack had been for a reason other than a random strike against a known enemy. The Avengers clung to that idea – just as Tony had recently depended on the brief flash of hope that triggering Extremis might give him his eyesight back. Instead he had killed four people, almost killed himself, and damaged the implants beyond repair. He had once again trapped himself in the darkness that made him helpless and largely a burden to those around him.

"Rhodey's coming up," Natasha announced. It sounded like she was a respectable distance away, informing Tony that he could deny his friend access to Pepper's grave if he wished it.

Tony simply nodded, knowing he had no right to stop Rhodey from paying his respects. He listened to the man approach, mostly sticking to the pathways in between the patches of grass. His stride was purposeful and unhesitating, yet slow enough to give Tony time to adjust.

Rhodey's hand landed on his left shoulder once he was close enough, squeezing with sympathy and reassurance. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Whether he meant to assuage Tony's guilt or alleviate the longing for Pepper's presence, he didn't know.

"I know you miss her, too," Tony decided to say.

"Yeah," Rhodey agreed.

"The last person I saw before it all went dark was her," Tony mused. "And when I could see for that brief moment in the middle of the battle at Long Beach… I saw you."

"It could have been any one of us," Rhodey said.

He was right, of course. Tony wasn't even certain why he was making the comparison.

"We'll figure it out," Rhodey went on, as if he felt like he needed to. "Just… no more human experiments, okay?" His voice shook for a second, betraying something Tony hadn't heard before; Rhodey had been afraid. The Avengers had largely been angry about his actions at Los Alamitos, but he supposed for the first few minutes, when it was unclear what had happened, they'd thought he had gotten caught in the middle of some kind of explosion that wasn't of his own making.

Tony made no promises. He didn't want to lie to his best friend – especially not when the rest of the team was slowly approaching and at least Steve would be within hearing range by now. He didn't worry about Natasha, seeing as she wasn't the kind to frown upon desperate measures. She had probably made plenty of bad decisions herself.

Rhodey's grip tightened fractionally and he gave Tony a slight shake. It was a signal that his reluctance to answer had been noticed – also serving as a punishment for it.

"Is it okay if we join you?" Bruce asked. He sounded cautious, acknowledging that he was approaching a personal place.

"Yes," Tony answered simply. They had once stood here together, when they put her into the ground. Without his team, Pepper would have been buried in some mass grave, or in a long row of bodies in a cemetery that just kept growing as more casualties of war were brought in…

"Who is it?" Sam asked, voice kept low with respect and caution.

"Pepper Potts," Steve replied, also keeping it down. "She was killed the day Tony got hurt…"

"She was collateral damage," Tony corrected, voice sharper than he had intended by the time the words passed his lips. "They came for me. She just… got trapped in the middle of it."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, appropriately respectful.

Tony frowned and pictured those last moments. For the most part it was just flashes, in between the wall imploding, the battle armors coming in – and then the inexplicable pain his body was trying to forget in order to protect itself. He tried to remember her, exactly as she had been, lying there on the floor, unmoving. That had been in the cards since he first put on the suit and went to war to fight all the things that were wrong with the world, but he had foolishly thought he could protect her.

For the longest time, he had succeeded in protecting her. Not from every danger, but he had always managed to bring her back home, to make amends – to earn her continued love and support. When the war began, she had still been concerned for his safety, but there had been a shift from voluntarily fighting bad guys to actually protecting the entire planet.

Tony had failed to protect her, and part of him was willing to give up on the rest of it. Let someone else do the fighting, to finish it.

"May this place forever remind us all of what we fight for," Thor spoke up suddenly, his voice a fraction lower than usual, as if he were addressing a matter of grave importance. "Our loved ones, alive or lost to us forever; friends and family. They have placed their trust and faith in us, and while we may waver, we can never give up. Not 'til our last breath."

He had a point, of course. A tiresome, undeniable point that weighed them all down beyond their capacity to carry it. Once upon a time people claimed that no group of superheroes should be in a position to protect the entire world, seeing as most countries had a competent defense system of their own. Now, there were hopeful whispers that perhaps the Avengers could perform the impossible and save everyone, regardless of how thankless or skeptical the masses had once been.

"Those are some big words to stand by," Clint mused. He had to be feeling some of that weight, his leg still healing and a note of weariness often entering his words when he got too tired to keep it away.

"Aye, but that is our path," Thor replied willfully. It was as if being denied the warriors of Asgard to join in their battle had made him twice as determined to prove that he, Thor Odinson, would suffice in the absence of many.

Tony sighed, wishing Thor's pleas would have been answered months ago, even when they were still unsure whether they could take on the alien host or not.

"Do not despair, Tony," Thor said, clearly taking his sigh as a rebuttal. "You may not see it yet, but you shall overcome the challenge of outwitting the enemy."

Tony scoffed, unable to help himself. "A blind man leading the way…"

Rhodey quickly jumped in: "I'm sure what he meant was –"

"I know what he means," Tony snapped.

"It's not all on you, Tony," Rhodey argued.

"Maybe it is," he argued back, lifting his head and then rising to his feet. "We turned the tables on them once already, at Crater Lake. All I need to do is to figure out how to aim higher."

"The Flag Ship," Sam supplied unnecessarily. Maybe he was getting cold feet but felt too proud to back off so soon. He would have plenty of other opportunities to jump ship, though, so maybe he was waiting for that.

Tony lifted his head, pretending that he could sense the Category 6 floating somewhere above him. Hundreds of miles between him and the unknown super weapon that could fry him where he stood… Yet here he was, still alive, and it felt like he was being taunted rather than threatened.

He had never liked being taunted, and he knew it was a sentiment shared by most of the team.

"I've always liked breaking people's concept of what's 'impossible'," Tony mused.

"I hear discovering new things is more fun when you can share it with your friends," Bruce added.

"Especially if they have similar life experiences," Steve concurred.

"Experiences build the path on which our feet carry us," Thor stated – even though he was the type to grab his magical hammer and fly.

"What use is there for a path if you're not going to walk it?" Clint concurred.

"None whatsoever," Rhodey replied.

"Unless you're planning on standing still, which is as good as curling up to die," Natasha challenged.

"I'm not going to do that," Tony said decisively.

"Good," Sam cut in before anyone else could. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's time someone ended this war."

"Might as well be us," Steve backed him up.

Tony craned his neck further back, unseeing eyes taking in the sky. He debated giving the Flag Ship the finger, but it would have been a tad too childish. Sooner or later, he would find a way to do that up close and personal…

A faint beep from his pocket prompted Tony to fish out the earpiece he had stashed there and slide it into his ear. "Go," he said as it activated.

 _"Director Fury is requesting an update,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said.

"Tell him we've reached a consensus," Tony replied.

 _"Anything else you would like me to add, sir?"_ the AI asked.

"Inform him that I'm on it."

 _"Should I elaborate how, exactly, you are 'on it'?"_

"I'll let you know when I figure that myself," Tony hummed. It would take a lot more than just tinkering, but the Avengers were unanimous in their agreement and that was all that mattered to him, really.

The rest would come naturally.

* * *

 **Day 183 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony stirred to the bots whirring; it wasn't enough to make him open his eyes or fully wake up, but he registered the sudden sound, soft as it was. The bots didn't usually move at night unless they had to in order to let someone move past them, and that was probably why it roused his consciousness.

Besides the bots, there were only deep breaths from his teammates and an occasional sleepy shift of a body on a mattress. Thor snored sometimes, but tonight they were all quiet and Tony shifted to get back to sleep.

Clint let out an annoyed grunt next to him, prompting Tony to move more carefully so as not to jostle the bed and his teammate's healing leg. It might have been wiser to share the bed with someone else, but he and Clint had been playing _Battleship_ before bed and they ended up too comfortable to switch beds afterwards.

With his body in a slightly different position, Tony began sinking back towards sleep –

 _"Missile inbound!"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice startled him just before alarms pierced the air. _"Ten seconds to impact,"_ the AI informed them an instant later.

"Ten?" Clint sputtered beside him.

"Hit the ground!" Steve yelled over the commotion, and suddenly an arm was pulling Tony across the bed and onto the floor.

"Move!" someone else exclaimed loudly, further away.

The bots beeped.

Tony shifted, trying to get his bearings, but then the body over him leaned closer, pinning his back to the floor, and his hands felt out firm shoulders the second the missile hit, rocking the floor as if they were near the center of an earthquake.

The building groaned and dust filled the air. Things were crashing and breaking all around them, a sudden warmth indicating an explosion or a fire somewhere outside.

"Comms?" someone shouted.

"Someone get ahold of J.A.R.V.I.S.!" Rhodey yelled. "Confirm whether there's going to be another –"

With a resounding boom, another projectile hit the factory area, and Tony instinctively whimpered, closed his eyes and tried to curl up in the fetal position to protect himself. He heard concrete falling down, some of it banging off metal near his head.

"We need to get out of here!" Steve said from above him.

"The room's going to collapse," Natasha reported, voice weaker than the others.

The Hulk replied with a snarl, and Tony tried to steady his breathing. Steve grunted briefly, then shifted, and Tony felt him pressing something against his shoulder. Tony moved one hand to touch it: the helmet.

Instantly grasping onto the opportunity, Tony placed it over his head, feeling it latch on almost instantly. He hadn't gotten nearly enough rest since last using the helmet, but they were under attack and the proper resting period could wait until they weren't all in imminent mortal danger.

As the implants came to life, Tony inhaled and then saw Steve's unmistakable figure lying on top of him, holding the shield over their heads to catch the debris that was falling. It couldn't have caught it all – not before the Hulk came to lean over them both, anyway. Beyond the two of them, Tony could detect the ceiling cracking further and further, ready to collapse.

"We need to move," he said. Steve nodded and leaned back, allowing Tony to get to his feet. "Help Clint and the bots out," Tony ordered. "Grab your gear and get people away from the danger," he went on, trying to focus on the things that needed to be done. They were far from prepared, under-dressed and violently shaken out of their sleep.

"Tony," Rhodey called out. "I got your gear. Let's go."

Tony spotted him and moved over, seeing Natasha and Sam helping Clint. It would have been better to make sure they all made it out in one piece, but there had already been two strikes and Tony was fairly certain they needed to get some kind of a defensive move going before a third strike rained down on them.

He grabbed his undersuit as soon as he and Rhodey cleared the building, pulling it on top of the clothes he had worn to bed. Rhodey was busy dressing himself at Tony's side, every now and then taking a look around.

"Nothing yet," Tony informed him. "Do you have earpieces?"

"No," Rhodey replied.

"We need –"

One of the bots chirped loudly, exiting the building right after Clint, one of them was carrying a bag. Tony grabbed it, detecting familiar items inside, and his fingers closed around two small boxes among all the other stuff, pulling them out. He handed one to Rhodey, focusing on opening his own and plucking out the earpiece inside.

 _"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said before the device was even properly in place, _"Mark 52 is approaching."_ The armor touched down three seconds later, the landing sounding less graceful than usual.

"What are we up against?" Tony asked, getting into the suit as soon as it had opened up. As it began to close, he spotted War Machine landing beside Rhodey, repeating the same pattern.

 _"A Category 5: War Ship in the distance. For the time being they do not seem to be preparing to fire, but there are four Category 3: Strike Team ships approaching. A Category 2: Maintenance ship has landed near the War Ship's location. I am also detecting heavy Drone activity in the area, closing in on the factory perimeter."_

"Has there been an evacuation order?"

 _"Indeed, sir."_

"Let's go, then," Tony decided and engaged the thrusters, shooting up to the sky. The HUD-implant connection was already up and running, replacing the helmet mode with a more easily comprehensible view. J.A.R.V.I.S. marked the enemy's position for him, and Tony made a circle, taking stock of the destruction.

Two buildings were on fire, so close to their housing unit that it was miraculous they hadn't been directly hit. A few of the Drones were already closing in on the scene – being welcomed by a very angry Hulk. Tony left the big guy to it, circling wider towards the approaching Strike Teams.

 _"Tony, you got a plan?"_ Rhodey asked over the comm.

"Make sure people get out of the way as quickly as possible," Tony decided. "The big guy and I will hold back the enemy for now."

 _"I can help – or Thor,"_ Rhodey argued.

"There will be plenty for both of you, especially if the Category 5 joins the party," Tony told him. "Get the people to safety first. They'll be cannon fodder otherwise." Tony knew he could have gone down there to help just as well, leaving the skies for Rhodey, but his friend had a better head for instructing civilians in a pinch and Tony had a grim feeling he himself was a better decoy for the enemy fire.

It didn't take long before the red dots of the approaching enemy aircrafts were dangerously close to him, and Tony fired a few shots their way. He didn't doubt they knew right where he was, but it didn't hurt to make an announcement – especially when the leading ship immediately returned fire and aligned its course towards him.

Tony arched away from the factory, to lead the Category 3s away, but only the lead ship followed him. "Crap," he muttered and deployed the flaps, spinning around in the air and then boosting back the way he had come, at double the speed.

 _"Sir, you are being targeted,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him.

"I see that," Tony replied. "Let's evade their shots and pass by at minimum distance. They're not as agile as the suit."

The HUD flared as one of the Strike Team ships in front of him fired at him. Tony's reflexes swerved him to the side, narrowly avoiding the energy beams that shot past him – beautiful but deadly had they hit their mark. The ship itself was approaching fast, and Tony felt the familiar tightness in his chest as he sped towards it. At some point, if the Category 3 fired, he would be too close to avoid it…

The thermal view showed the alien weapon charging up an instant before it fired again, giving Tony a warning to adjust his trajectory and avoid a very painful blast in the faceplate. As he twisted to the side, he ended up flying close enough to the ship to scrape its side as they reached each other – and a split-second decision made him actually reach out and curl his fingers around one of its wings.

 _"SIR!"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. cried out just as his momentum met the Category 3's. The pull on his arm felt like it might tear it clean off, but the armor held together despite his fingers going numb, and then suddenly the wing was coming loose, tearing a hole in the hull of the Strike Team, sending it into an uncontrollable death spiral towards the ground while Tony, too, spun out of control.

He wasn't sure whether he released the wing or if his AI did it for him; one second he was hanging onto it and the next it was falling down like a flower petal torn loose. Tony breathed in and laughed wildly while it sounded like J.A.R.V.I.S. was groaning.

"We survived," Tony told his AI.

 _"Barely,"_ came the dry reply.

"Let's go after the others," Tony decided and moved his body accordingly, resuming flight speed in a few seconds. Ahead of him, he could see the obvious signs of a battle, and one by one the Avengers' voices entered the comm frequency as they geared up and reported in: Sam was playing tag with Drones, keeping them away from the civilians. Clint had the bots with him and was covering the retreating people to the best of his ability. Rhodey and Thor were taking to the skies to meet the advancing Strike Teams while Steve and Natasha continued with last-minute rescues to clear the area.

"Hop to it," Tony murmured, preparing to accelerate his own approach to get into the thick of the fight faster. It wouldn't be the first time he flew in hot –

The suit swerved suddenly, taking him by surprise. J.A.R.V.I.S. began speaking, probably to sound an alarm, but Tony was hit from behind before the AI or the HUD could catch up.

Falling was always unpleasant, especially while being shot at even as he was crashing to the ground. Tony tried to gain control of the suit, even long enough to stop his painfully fast descent, but three more jarring shots hit his body, eventually landing him on the ground at bone-crushing speed. His only saving grace was that he briefly got his hands under him before impact, the thrusters slowing him down enough to not knock him unconscious within the suit.

"Fuck," he groaned. The HUD was flickering, trying to keep up with the status reports from various damaged components. Somewhere in the midst of it he made out an approaching foe – or foes, as it happened: two alien battle armors were gaining on him, looking like the type who would kick a man while he was still on the ground.

Tony suspected those two had crawled out of the Category 3 whose wing he clipped. He saw no indication that the ship itself was still in play, which was fortunate, and slowly he hauled himself to his knees, willing his body to move when it would have rather just lain there recovering from the fall.

 _"– two exo-suits –"_

"I see them," Tony grunted. "You're breaking up."

The comm disappeared into static for a moment. Tony wondered if it was just his head, the suit, or the attack taking its toll.

 _"The communication channel is breaking up,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice returned after a while.

"I can tell," Tony replied and forced himself to his feet. The armor felt heavy, which meant the servos had taken a beating.

He could see the battle armors approaching and shifted his body to a more favorable position, waiting for them to get closer. Most of his weapons were still operational, but he would rather strike from close range for maximized effect. Further away, the battle grew louder, but Tony knew he needed to take care of this before going to help the others.

The aliens halted their approach roughly thirty feet from him. It felt like they were forcing his hand, not coming closer than that, but Tony had known they wouldn't just run into his fist, either.

"Two of you against one of me," he called out. Whether they understood or not, he didn't care. "It hardly seems fair, although there's a lot of me to go around. Let's even the odds," he decided and lifted his arm to release two small missiles that each could take out a tank on their own. The motion seemed painfully sluggish, but the targeting system delivered the payload, blasting one of the armors at full force and blowing it backwards.

The armor's helmet would have normally shielded Tony's eyes from the brightness of the detonation, but seeing as he was connected through the implants, he saw the explosion in all of its heated glory. He could make out the battle armor in the midst of it all, cooler than its surroundings. It was still moving after the initial hit, and Tony sneered, not exactly surprised but wishing the exo-suits would have sustained at least some damage in the fall of their transport. "Fine," he decided and did a final check on the suit, re-directing power where it was needed to keep him moving. "Let's do this," he said to no one in particular and attacked.

He crossed the distance in a few shaky strides – then boosted himself up just before hitting the battle armor that was still standing, flipping over it and landing on his feet behind it. The battle armor he had hit earlier was still getting to its feet, and with a smirk his opponent could not see, Tony directed all of the armor's power to the chest RT and fired the Unibeam. He could almost hear the screech of metal and the alien inside as it was propelled backwards.

Not waiting for it to land on the ground, Tony moved forward, punching hard with his fist. The outer chassis of the exo-suit collapsed, his fist sinking inside. He didn't hesitate, knowing he would regret it if he did; Tony simply exhaled as he fired the palm repulsor at full power, the impact sending him staggering backwards. As he fought to catch his footing, he watched the exo-suit power down for the last time and the life signs vanish within it.

"One down," he started – and got pummeled in the back by the remaining armor. He landed on his hands and knees, backside aching from the blow, then started as the enemy moved closer still. Tony tried rolling to the side, to get into a better position to fire at the alien, but he was at a disadvantage and didn't have enough speed to avoid the kick that caught him in the midriff, sending him rolling across the ground.

Even through the suit, he could feel it, but adrenaline was still coursing through his system and he dug the fingers of his left hand into the ground to stop the motion. He heard the battle armor stomping closer even through the ringing in his ears and forced himself upwards, unwilling to be caught by another kick.

With the suit still stiff from the fall, Tony soon realized he was not getting to his feet in time. At the exo-suit prepared to deliver another kick, Tony changed tactics and leaned forward instead, crashing against the leg the alien was using to brace its armor on the ground. The kick went wide and the weight of Tony's suit made the battle armor teeter backwards until it was on the verge of falling.

Knowing exactly how it felt, Tony used the enhanced strength of the suit and dug into the joints of the battle armor, tearing apart everything he could get his hands on.

A mechanical arm reached down, to pull him off, and Tony reached up and grabbed onto it – just so that he could hoist himself up and kick at the damaged leg and then blast a repulsor at it, sealing the deal and cutting it almost completely in half.

The armor fell, taking him with it, and Tony wasted no time bashing it in the head, then attacking connections wherever he could reach them. He got perhaps a bit carried away looking for vulnerable spots because the alien beneath him wasn't going to just lay back and join its friend: the arm that was still mostly functioning slammed against Tony, smacking him to the side – then slid out a blade-like extension it attempted to ram straight through his shoulder.

Tony jerked to the side, knowing better than to risk it. The battle armor followed, not even trying to get to its feet. As Tony scrambled away, knowing he was now the more mobile of the two, the armor grabbed his leg to drag him backwards. Tony twisted back to blast it in the face, but the alien armor lurched forward to bring its other arm up and punched him instead.

There were literal stars occupying his brain for a moment – he swore he could see them – but then he was brought back by pain as the alien yet again tried to pierce him with its blade. His armor was slowly yielding beneath the force, having already sustained damage, and the physical pain triggered a new onslaught of adrenaline.

With a yell that would have made Thor proud, Tony kicked the alien armor in the face, then launched a missile at it when they were barely two feet from each other.

Suffice to say, Tony felt the blow rattle his insides. The impact pressed him to the earth so tightly he was afraid he might have to dig himself out afterwards, but Mark 52 held together through the blast and the rain of dirt that followed, keeping him alive.

Panting and feeling woozy, Tony took stock of his body; he could feel his limbs and most of the stuff in between. The comm was utterly silent – had been for a while now – and Tony knew the suit was hanging on by a thread – as was he. Still, he fought to get to his feet, knowing that he had to get to the others and do what he could to fight off the remaining aliens.

Beside him, the exo-suit groaned, and the information the HUD provided told Tony that his enemy was also struggling to stay in the game. He must have crippled it, though, because it wasn't moving all that much, and Tony decided he could just leave it lying there and not waste any more ammo.

As he made the painfully slow journey to his feet, he felt a wetness sliding down his face. He might have mistaken it for sweat if he didn't have such an extensive knowledge of what a trail of blood felt like in comparison, and as it traveled all the way down to his top lip and began pooling there before sliding down to the seam of his lips, he licked it off just to get rid of the irritating sensation. That left him with a taste of blood in his mouth, of course, and he imagined he could smell the copper in the confined space of the helmet.

He had tasted it dozens of times before and it shouldn't have distracted him at all, but he was still slow in reacting to the sudden blow from the alien armor; he detected it, but delivering the information from his brain to his body took a fraction of a second too long.

The blade-hand struck him hard in the back, almost giving him whiplash. The armor protected him, taking the brunt of the deadly force, but it must have been the last nail in the coffin because Mark 52 went down like a dead weight and Tony was helpless to stop it.

Neither could he fight back the darkness that followed as the HUD went dead and was replaced by nothing at all.

 **The End**


End file.
